


Tales of Blood and Starlight

by Templarlady



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/M, Historical Fantasy, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-02-16 09:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 68,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2265468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Templarlady/pseuds/Templarlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of stories told by several of my favourite characters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The stars were quite different here. 

Not just brighter but completely alien to those I had been familiar with all my life. I lay on my back staring up into the darkness trying to make out shapes that I could put names to. 

For many years after I was turned I came here, to Faery, to see the sun again, I could not imagine never sitting in the warmth of a summer afternoon, but gradually, with Bill's help and support I missed it less and less and now I had grown to love the night. The clear silver light of the full moon, the bright, sharp clarity of starlight, this seemed so much more normal to me now than the golden warmth of sunlight.

I was drifting into a little dream when I noticed that the stars seemed to be going out. Blinking I realised that a great dark shape had interposed itself between me and the stars overhead. 

_"What are you staring at with such fascination?"_ asked Arzosah the great black dragon who had become one of my most faithful friends over the years.

"I'm just looking at the stars" I murmured. "Trying to make out shapes, constellations......" I sat up. "Do you have those here?" I asked. "Imagined shapes of gods and heroes in the stars?"

Arzosah lowered herself heavily to the ground beside me and looked up. _"Why yes!"_ she rumbled. _"You see that band of stars over there?"_

Her muzzle pointed at a trailing line of stars which curved above the cliffs behind our cottage.

_"You see that group of stars at one end of the line? That is Draco, the constellation of the dragon."_

"I suppose I should have guessed that one?" I said with a smile, glancing over to where the great bulk of Arzosah's mate Siriothrax lay on the other side of the fire with Bill sitting between his great paws and leaning back against his gleaming bronze hide.

"Does it represent someone?" I asked. 

She stared up at the group of stars and was silent for so long that I began to be sorry that I had asked. Just as I was about to change the subject she heaved a sigh and lowered her head to the ground beside me. 

_"I believe that there are several tales, but the one I was told is that it represents a Dragon who gave up his life to help your race."_

Her great jewelled eye whirled as she looked at me. _"Humans, I mean....."_

On the other side of the fire Rahotep, who was reclining on a pile of furs with Amina at his side stirred and sat up a little straighter. 

"That sounds interesting. So many ancient peoples told tales of dragons that I had always believed that there was some truth in them."

Siriothrax's head came up at this. _"They did?"_ he asked curiously. _"What did they say?"_

Rahotep leaned back against the furs and considered this. Over the years Bill and I had gradually introduced some of our closest friends to the cottage in Faery, after swearing them to secrecy, and we spent many nights relaxing beside the lake and talking about all manner of things.

"In my childhood I was encouraged by my nurse to sleep with the warning that, if I did not, the great snake Apophis would come for me" he said with a smile. "He was the enemy of the Sun God Ra, and embodied the power of darkness. The Norse believed that the great serpent Jörmungandr surrounded the earth, clasping his own tail in his mouth and that when he let go the world would end.”

Amina looked up at him lazily. “They sound dangerous. Were all the legendary dragons so frightening?” she asked.

“Oh no!” he answered. “Not at all. Chinese dragons were thought to represent good luck. The Dragon was the symbol of the ancient Chinese Emperors.”

_“That doesn't seem surprising to me”_ said Siriothrax. _“Just like your kind, we Dragons are all different. Some are helpful and generous, others are evil and highly dangerous. Most are somewhere in between.”_

"So will you tell us the story of the constellation of Draco?" asked Rahotep. "I'd be interested to hear it."

Arzosah's great wings rustled as she settled herself closer to the fire. _"Well now......we Dragons never give anything away for nothing you know!"_ she said, her huge glittering eyes whirling with amusement. _"What will you give me in return?"_

Rahotep looked over at Bill. "Well, I'm sure we have some stories we could tell you?" 

Bill's lips curled up into a little smile. "Oh yes, I'm sure we could think of something!"

I smiled to myself, wondering if there could be anything that he hadn't already told me during the centuries that we had been together, as friends and as lovers.

Arzosah turned her head and regarded Rahotep for a moment. _"Yes.....you are almost as old as we are. I imagine you would have many stories to tell. I agree, I shall tell you of Draco in return for your stories."_

Amina laid her head on Rahotep's shoulder and asked "What will you tell us then? You must have met so many thousands of people in your long existence. Who will you tell us about?"

He reached up and trailed a fingertip aong her cheek. "Who would you like to hear about my dear? The heroes of the Trojan wars, Odysseus, Achilles and Ajax? Or their women perhaps? Cassandra, the daughter of King Priam of Troy who was cursed with the gift of prophecy? Or Helen of Sparta whose beauty sparked a war that lasted for ten years and brought down a great city in ruins?"

"You were there?" I asked. "You actually met them?"

"Certainly I did!" answered Rahotep calmly. "Let me tell you how I played a small part in one of the most famous wars in history......."


	2. Chapter 2

"There was never before in the history of the world such a city as Troy.

Well.....that was Kalchas' view anyway! He was sent to Thebes as a young priest of Apollo to learn his trade from the Egyptians, but he soon made himself unpopular among the other novices. He was unimpressed by the great pyramids, the walls of Troy, he claimed, rose as high and housed the living, not the dead. Furthermore the walls of Troy had been built by the Gods themselves not by mere men sweating under the hot Egyptian sun.

Personally I was more impressed by the idea that men had built such magnificent monuments but Kalchas was different. He was a seer, one of the Greek priests who interpreted the will of the Gods and for him, the works of men could never compare. Our Gods too he considered inferior and he was soon shunned by the other novices not only for his views but for his appearance. He was a true albino, his hair was thin and white and his skin the colour of milk. His eyes were pink and clouded and he shunned the bright Egyptian sunlight. Thus it was that we were thrown together as, in truth, he looked far more a creature of the night than I did!"

"This was after you were turned then?" asked Amina quietly.

"Yes, in those early days I remained a priest. I would stay at one temple until people began to wonder why I did not grow any older and then I would move on, and on again. Then, when everyone who might remember me was dead, I would return to the first temple."

"Did no-one suspect that you were not human?" asked Bill curiously.

"Possibly.......but then, in those days people were far more accepting of things that they did not understand. They believed that the Gods were real and interacted with men. They believed that there were many creatures on the earth whose existence could not be explained."

I felt a rumbling from Arzosah's chest. _"Even us?"_ she asked.

Rahotep smiled at the great dark shape, her eyes reflecting the flickering red of the firelight. "Yes my dear, even you!"

Bill laughed. "Gods and Monsters!" he said holding out his hands to me.

I got up and moved across to him, curling myself into the space between his thighs, his arms around me. I smiled up at him, remembering the book he had shown me so long ago. The one he had found when he was still living with his maker, Lorena.

"Yes indeed" said Rahotep. "Both Gods and monsters seemed very real in those days, but people......they haven't really changed that much. They were just as avaricious and unwilling to pay their debts as they are today. Kalchas told me that the walls of Troy were built by Poseidon and his payment was one hundred talents of gold paid into his temple every year. This was done faithfully until the very year that Laomedon, the father of King Priam, came to the throne when there was a devastating earthquake which blew apart the island of Thera and brought down the city of King Minos of Crete. This earthquake also brought down the western wall of the city and King Laomedon, who was well known as a miser, decreed that the bargain with Poseidon was void. The hundred talents would never be paid again.

And so it was until a few years after Kalchas returned to Troy when Poseidon sent a sea monster to raid the area and Kalchas the seer told the King that its price was his daughter Hesione. 

The King raged and swore but he would not re-instate the payments and so he gave up his daughter to the monster. Fortunately for her Herakles and his band of friends were travelling to the land of the Amazons and he killed the monster and gave the princess Hesione to his friend Telemachus who had fallen in love with her. Some said that the King had made a deal with Herakles and that when he killed the monster he refused him the payment and denied he had ever offered it. Herakles was so angry he killed King Laomedon and four of his sons leaving only Priam to inherit the city."

"Which do you believe?" I asked.

Rahotep smiled gently. "Well, knowing Laomedon's reluctance to part with his money I'm inclined to believe the latter. But however it happened, Priam's sister Hesione was taken away by the Greeks and he hated them from that moment on."

"So where did Helen come in?" asked Bill. "Surely everyone knows that her abduction by Priam's son Paris was the cause of the war?"

Rahotep laughed. "Yes.....that's what everyone believes. But, remember.... I met Helen. Oh yes she was beautiful, but spoiled and vain. And the husband her father had chosen for her, Menelaos, was considerably older and not half as handsome as Paris. She and her older sister Clytemnestra were given in marriage to the two sons of Atreus, Agamemnon and Menelaos. But when Helen was to be married all the Kings of Greece came to her father to ask for her hand. Her father Tyndareus of Sparta feared that there would be trouble when he chose a husband for her and so Odysseus advised him to make all her suitors swear a solemn, unbreakable oath that they would always support and aid the man he chose as Helen's husband."

Rahotep gave a cynical little smile. "King Priam's hatred of the Greeks had inspired him to close the Dardanelles to Greek shipping so that they were unable to purchase tin and copper from the miners on the Euxine sea. Priam made his fortune from this trade and then made the Greek merchants pay a toll to pass through the Hellespont to trade in Asia Minor. There was nothing the Greeks wanted more than to be able to trade directly so when Menelaos came to his brother to tell him that his wife had left him and run away with Paris, Agamemnon realised that this would give him the perfect excuse. As High King he sent messengers to all the Kings who had vied for Helen's hand and told them that she had been abducted by Priam's son. He demanded that they fulfill their oaths and bring their armies to join him.

Bill shifted slightly, pulling me closer to him. "But you don't think she was abducted at all?" he asked.

"No" answered Rahotep. "She went with him willingly. She was bored with her husband and flattered by the young and handsome Paris. They slipped out of the palace by night while Menelaos was away. She took the contents of his treasury with her but left her children behind! What does that tell you? She was a great beauty certainly, but selfish and self centred! But to my mind the most interesting thing was that my old friend Kalchas, the Trojan priest of Apollo was now working for Agamemnon! His story was that he had visited the oracle at Delphi and she had told him that Apollo wished him to serve the heirs of Atreus. Personally I believed that something had happened to cause Priam to distrust him, but I never did find out what.

It was not until many years later that I met him again. It was on the wide plain before Troy in the later years of the war and he introduced me to Achilles. A strange young man.......a great warrior and leader of men but in many ways still a child. He believed that he was fated to die on the plain before Troy. He said it was his punishment."

"Punishment for what?" I asked.

"When the High Kings of Greece assembled their ships they were, at first, stranded at Aulis. There was no wind. The leader, Agamemnon, asked for advice from Kalchas who told him that he had offended the Goddess Artemis by boasting of his hunting prowess. Artemis would only be appeased by the sacrifice of his daughter Iphegenia."

"I remember reading that in the Iliad." I said. "I thought the Greeks had advanced beyond human sacrifice, but apparently not. But that wasn't Achilles' fault? Why would he blame himself for that?"

"How could a man possibly contemplate the sacrifice of his own daughter?" asked Bill, horrified. 

"How could Artemis ask for such a sacrifice?" I asked, equally horrified. "Now you know why I try to steer clear of her!"

 _"You know her?"_ asked Arzosah curiously, raising her head slightly to peer at me across the fire.

"We've met a couple of times" I answered.

"Agamemnon was a very ambitious man" said Rahotep. "To him, nothing was more important than the destruction of Troy. To him only his son Orestes was important, he had three daughters, he could spare one if it would enable him to set sail for Troy with his thousand ships. So he sent for Iphegenia, but of course his wife would never have allowed her to come if she knew the real reason so Agamemnon told her that she was to be married to Achilles. She considered the Prince Achilles to be a good match and so she sent Iphegenia to her father and so, ultimately, to her death."

"He paid in the end though didn't he?" I said. "When he returned from Troy Clytemnestra murdered him in revenge. But I still don't see why Achilles blamed himself?"

Rahotep looked across at me. "He told me what happened when she arrived at Aulis" he said. "Of course Achilles knew why she had been sent for but he swore to me that he didn't know how her father had used his name to lure her to him. He was horrified when she ran to him and told him how happy she was that they were to be married.

"Should I have told her?" he asked me. "What good would that have done? Her last night on earth would have been spent in fear instead of happiness. But then in the morning when she realised what was happening......the look in her eyes frightened me. She was brave and went to her death calmly but when she died, I felt something. A chill crawling over my skin. I knew then that we would get our wind, that it would take us to Troy, but that I would never leave."

"And, of course, he was right"

"Poor child, but, like her aunt Helen, she was just manipulated by the men around her, her mother now, Clytemnestra.....she was a strong woman. Didn't you meet any strong, powerful women?" I asked wistfully.

Rahotep thought for a moment. "How about Penthesilea the Queen of the Amazons?


	3. Chapter 3

I had journeyed to the plains of Troy out of pure curiosity. As I'm sure we are all aware, battlefields are a draw to vampires at any time and I was not the only one of our kind to be in the area.

By this time the war had been going on for many years and it was obvious that the Greeks were never going to give up, and equally obvious that they had no chance of breaking into the city. However, since the Greeks had Odysseus on their side I had a shrewd idea that, eventually he would find some way in and then the city would burn, with everyone and everything in it. I was determined to find some way inside."

"But why?" I asked. "Yes, I can see that it would be interesting but surely it was too dangerous?"

"Now why do you think I would take such a risk?" he asked me with a smile.

The explanation was obvious.....to me at least. I grinned back at him. "Books.......right? I'll bet there were scrolls held there that you wanted."

"See......you know me too well! I'd already spent centuries acquiring scrolls from the Egyptian temples which would form the core of my collection. The collection which became my great Library at Giza."

Bill suddenly sat up. "Wait a moment! You're saying that you broke into a city under seige by the greatest army ever seen in your time, a city incidentally, which housed the most beautiful woman in the world, for some books?" he asked incredulously.

"Librarians! You're as crazy as she is!"

I laughed. "You, I suppose, would have headed straight for Helen?"

"Well.......yes!" said Bill. "I admit it.....I would! Such a renowned beauty? Marlowe's 'face that launched a thousand ships and burned the topless towers of Ilium' Yes, I would! So would any man" he glanced over at Rahotep. "With the possible exception of 'bookworm' over there!"

"That's a bit unfair.......hey! Wait a minute!" I sat up, wriggling out of his grasp. "What do you mean he's as bad as me? When did I ever break into a city under seige? Come on!" I poked him in the chest with a finger. "Name one time!"

"Well.....not yet" he admitted. "But I'll bet you would if you thought the circumstances demanded it!"

"I would not!" I said indignantly.

"Are you sure?"

I thought about this for a moment. "Well.......probably not....."

Bill rolled his eyes at Amina "See! What did I say? Crazy as bedbugs the lot of 'em!"

I sat stiffly and glared at him. "That is so not fair! And don't think you can get around me by quoting Marlowe either....."

"No?" Bill's arms slid around me and pulled me closer. "That's a shame, I've always rather fancied myself as Mephistophiles." He bent his head until his cool lips brushed against my neck as he whispered... "....sweet Faustus, shall I have thy soul? And I shall be thy slave and do thy will and give thee more than thou hast wit to ask....."

I smiled up at him. "Had I as many souls as there be stars, I'd give them all for Mephistophiles" I murmured....then I felt a jolt as Siriothrax nudged Bill in the shoulder.

_"Stop that you two! I want to hear the rest of the story!"_

Rahotep laughed. "He's right! Stop interrupting and let me tell the story!"

Bill settled down, leaning back against Siriothrax's forearm and I snuggled back comfortably into his arms.

"So.....I waited for a night when the moon was a thin crescent hidden by the clouds and slipped quietly under the walls. As you know we can move swiftly and silently in the darkness, and the lookouts on the walls were weary by now, staring out over the darkened plain watching for an attack that had never come. I had been watching the patrols on the walls from the banks of the river Scamander which flowed past the city and I simply climbed up the wall during a gap in the patrols and slipped down into the narrow streets. I soon discovered the reason for the ease of my entry as I passed a group of soldiers who were clearly drunk and celebrating. Slipping into a dark doorway I let them pass and followed silently listening to them.

It appeared that Priam's son Hector had gained a great victory that day. Achilles, that spoiled child, had thought himself slighted by the High King Agamemnon who had taken a woman Achilles considered to be his prize and Achilles had withdrawn his army from the field and remained sulking in his tent. However, on this day it appeared that he had relented and he and his army had taken the field again just as Hector had almost reached the Greek ships. At least.....someone had taken the field. Someone dressed in Achilles' golden armour and driving his chariot pulled by his team of distinctive white horses. However, when Hector killed him it was apparent that it was not Achilles at all but his lover Patrocles. I drew back and let them move on ahead of me. This was bad....Patrocles was a childhood friend of Achilles as well as his lover, he would have sworn vengeance on Hector by now. I slipped back over the wall and fled into the forest to consider my next move.

I woke the next evening to the sound of hoof beats approaching. I was puzzled as the trees grew too thickly for chariots to pass easily so I moved back into the thicker undergrowth and watched in astonishment as a veritable army of riders approached through the trees. Not only were these people riding horses, something I had never seen before, but they were all women! In the lead was a powerfully built woman on a great white horse which moved through the trees like a ghost. She was dressed in the same dark leather tunic as her companions, soft leather leggings tucked into high boots and a quiver of arrows slung over one shoulder to match the bow strapped to the harness of her horse, but somehow I knew she was the leader of these warrior women. With no gold or jewels or fine silks she still carried herself like a queen.

I stood still and silent until they had passed and then made my way to the part of the wall I had climbed the previous night. Once inside the city I discovered that these women were the legendary Amazons of Scythia, led by their Queen Penthesilea who was a kinswoman of Hecuba, Priam's Queen. I was fascinated by the idea of this warrior Queen and decided I had to find out more about her. By listening carefully to the servants who swarmed around the entrances to the Palace of Priam I discovered that, although her women were camped outside the city before the walls, the Queen had been given a chamber in the palace. I passed quietly through the colonnade around the palace, into the high, wide corridor which led to the area set aside for visitors and slipped inside the empty chamber."

Rahotep paused, seeming a little embarassed. "I can't offer any excuses. It was pure curiosity. It wasn't as though I was unused to women......on the contrary, I was well aware of the sort of things women kept in their chambers. This chamber, however, was quite different. There was none of the usual clutter of clothing, jewellry and cosmetic boxes which I had expected to find. On the low bed was a pair of leather bags joined by leather straps alongside a thick woolen cloak. The most shocking item was propped up against the edge of the bed.....a double headed battleaxe! I was so surprised that I let my guard slip for a moment. A moment that was enough for her to step into the room behind me, a long bronze knife in her hand.

I expected her to call for the guards but it never appeared to occur to her that she might need assistance. She came forward boldly, staring at me. 

"You are no Trojan! Neither do you look like the enemy! Who are you?" she asked in atrocious Greek with an accent so thick I could barely understand her.

"I come from Egypt" I said quietly.

"You should not be here" she said. "I am sworn to the virgin goddess, it is forbidden for me to take a man until I have killed in battle."

I stood entranced, staring at the long copper coloured hair which had been hidden under her helmet, her bright, intelligent eyes fixed on me. "And if you should die?" I asked.

She sighed and lowered the knife. "Ah yes.....well that seems quite likely Egyptian. The Greek army is greater than any army ever seen. My warriors will fight bravely, but we will die."

She stepped towards me and put out a hand curiously, touching my arm and then snatching back her hand. "Cold! As though I have touched death already......What are you, Egyptian?" she asked, her brilliant green eyes burning with curiosity.  
"Are you truly a man, or some kind of spirit?"

"Well.....no, not truly...." I answered.

She stepped closer and reached up to her shoulders, unfastening two clasps so that her short leather tunic slid from her body and pooled on the rug at her feet. Unlike the well born Greek and Egyptian women who took care to stay out of the sun, her skin was the colour of warm honey and her bare arms were as heavily muscled as any Greek warrior's.

"Then perhaps Artemis will forgive me" she whispered, reaching out to touch my cheek. Her fingers were strong and I could feel the calluses on the palm of her hand from years of wielding a sword. "For I have no wish to die a virgin......."


	4. Chapter 4

We all looked at Rahotep expectantly.

"Well?" asked Bill impatiently. "Did she?"

Rahotep raised an imperious eyebrow. "What are you asking? Did she die, or did she remain a virgin?"

"Well......both I suppose" said Bill with a laugh. "What happened?"

Rahotep gave a small reminiscent smile. "Well.........I awoke at dusk the next evening in the depths of the forest. I lay for a moment in the dark hollow amongst the roots of an ancient oak tree where I spent my days. If I closed my eyes I could almost feel the warmth of her skin against mine. She had been wary at first of the cool touch of my flesh, but I flatter myself that she soon forgot her fears as she surrendered herself to me completely."

We didn't like to ask for details. Somehow Rahotep's austere appearance persuaded us to restrain our curiosity. Suddenly a broad smile appeared on his face.

"I stayed with her all that night. If she were to die the next day and this was the only time she would lie with a man I felt that I owed it to her to make her one experience of sex a good one! And..." the smile became just a touch smug, "....I think I succeeded.....!"

"You old dog, you!" muttered Bill under his breath.

"When I climbed out and made my way to the edge of the forest the battle was over. The plain before the gates of Troy was littered with the dead of both armies. However it was not abandoned by any means. There were many men moving over the plain. Stripping the armour and weapons from the dead. I slipped out and joined them and it was from them that I heard the story of how Queen Penthesilea of the Amazons had slain two of the Greek leaders before facing the great Achilles in single combat.

There was never any chance that she could beat him. Achilles had faced dozens of the Trojans' greatest warriors and was undefeated. But she put up a good fight. And when she fell, it was said that Achilles removed her helmet to see her face and fell in love.....

One of the Greeks laughed at this and his companion hurriedly silenced him. He warned him of the fate of Theristes, a Greek warrior who had insulted the dead Queen in front of Achilles and was killed for it. He told of how Theristes' kinsman King Diomedes took the body of the Queen and cast it into the river Scamander so that Achilles should not claim her as a prize.

I could not bear to think of her body being washed up somewhere for the ravens and so I searched the banks of the broad river until eventually I found her body caught up in the overhanging branches of a tree. I waded into the water and released her, carrying her to the bank and laying her down on the sand. It was only then that I realised that all the tales I had heard were wrong. There was a great wound in her side where Achilles' spear had taken her but the shock of the cold water had staunched the bleeding and she was not quite dead. However, it was obvious that she was too far gone ever to recover. 

I sat back on my heels and considered my options. I could wait with her until the final trace of life was extinguished and then continue with my original plan to give her a decent burial. Or......."

His voice tailed off and his bright eyes watched us across the fire as his meaning sank in.

"You turned her?" said Bill in astonishment. "You turned a Queen of the Amazons? How is it that I've never heard of this? I've served on the High Council of the Authority for centuries now!"

"In those early days they did not keep records the way they do now. I never told anyone as I considered it to be no-one's business but our own."

"How did she take it?" I asked curiously. I felt Bill's arm tighten around me and I knew he was remembering his own decision to turn me when I had been unconscious and dying.

"She was remarkably calm" said Rahotep. "I explained what I had done, that she would now live only at night but she accepted this immediately. She recalled the battle with Achilles and she understood that she should have died. This new life seemed to her to be a gift from her Goddess. A reward for her prowess in battle.

The next night we left the plains of Troy behind us and journeyed back to Egypt where we remained for a century together until we both began to feel restless and decided to travel. We arranged a crossing of the Mediterranean to Italy and made our way up the western coast, eventually landing at the mouth of a great river. There were large salt flats beside the sea and the salt traders moved every year upriver along a well-worn trail to a small trading post some way inland beside an island in the river. A small stream crossed a marshy meadow to join the river and around this stream had grown up a settlement where men from the coast and from further inland would bring goods to trade. Animals such as oxen, cattle, sheep and goats were herded to the meadow and others would bring furs, leather goods and pottery, combs and clasps of tortoiseshell and amber, bronze ornaments and iron ploughshares. There were nuts from the mountains, fish from the river, pots of honey, bowls of cheese, fresh milk and vegetables and fruit in season. The traders would come and go but the settlers grew in number until the settlement spread out over the surrounding hills on the eastern side of the river. It was as though the land there had been folded into ridges and furrows making a group of seven hills.

We discovered a cave high up the side of one of the hills which went back far enough into the earth for us to be able to sleep in safety and so we stayed in the area as the trading post grew into a sizeable settlement. Then one year there was a great flood. Many people drowned and when the waters receded those who had fled to the seven hills discovered a wooden cradle had been washed up on the slope of the largest of the hills, containing two infant boys. A shepherd and his wife took them in and raised them." 

Rahotep smiled to himself. "The shepherd's wife was a woman who held to the old ways. Penthesilea admired her for her refusal to conform to the settlers' idea of a wife. The people of the seven hills referred to her as a whore, or in their tongue, a she-wolf."

He paused, watching me. "Twins raised by a 'she wolf'?" I asked. "They were Romulus and Remus?"

"They were indeed! The shepherd and his wife were far from ideal parents and the boys grew up so wild that you could almost believe that they had been brought up by a wolf! They were, however, the fastest and the strongest of all the local boys and soon gathered a group of followers. As boys they went hunting together and played practical jokes on the people of the settlement which grew and prospered. But as they grew up they gathered more young men around them and began to cause more serious trouble.

"Those boys will bring nothing but trouble here!" declared Penthesilea. "They are born to be warriors, they were never meant to live amongst traders!"

"And she was right. They began by raiding nearby villages and stealing cattle and graduated to leading a small army against a nearby town, killing the leaders and bringing anything of value back to the settlement. It was when Romulus proposed building walls around the hills and placed the iron crown he had looted from some other town on his own head that Penthesilea decided that we should leave."

"I shall never bend my head before a king" she cried angrily. "In our land there were no Kings, but only Queens, the daughters of the Goddess. Our daughters were reared to be warriors. A father had authority only over his sons, not his wife. It was the mother who decreed the destiny of a daughter. These men believe that they own their women!"

"I had to admit that she was right and besides, it was time for us to move on, and so we left what was beginning to be called "Roma" and journeyed south towards the great bay which was known as "the Cup". A little to the north of the bay was the village of Cumae which was renowned even in those early days for the prophet of Apollo known as the Sibyl of Cumae. Here we settled for a while as Penthesilea felt at home in a community of women.

The whole area was riddled with volcanic activity, Vesuvius was just across the bay and nearby was Lake Avernus which was believed to be an entrance to the underworld. The cave of the Sibyl was very similar, it was heavy with fumes from the cracks in the floor and the sulphurous odours could cause visions and hallucinations."

"Don't you have copies of the Sibylline Books in Giza?" I asked suddenly.

 _"What are they?"_ asked Arzosah curiously.

"It must have been around the time you were there" I said suspiciously. "The Sibyl was said to have visited Tarquinius, one of the early Kings of Rome, and offered him nine books of prophecy which foretold the fate of Rome. But he thought the price too high and sent her away. The next day she returned with six books and offered them to him for the same price. He asked what had happened to the other three books and she said that she had burned them. Tarquinius was outraged that she should ask the same price for six books that she had previously asked for nine and refused her again.

That night various portents were observed by the Roman priests and so when the Sibyl returned the next day with three books, Tarquinius paid the price she asked. Therefore the Romans obtained the information that they craved but it was incomplete.

I always thought those scrolls were later copies......but they weren't were they?" I asked.

"Well.....yes, they were later copies. But only because the original had crumbled to dust" explained Rahotep smugly. "I had the originals all along. What no-one understood was that the Sibyl was not one woman, but many. There were a group of women who acted as the vessel for the God and one of them, at that time, was Penthesilea."

I smiled to myself. I was one of the few people who knew that the Sibylline books were never burned at all.

"What happened to her?" I asked.

Rahotep smiled sadly at me. "She simply decided eventually that she did not wish to go on. She had lived her human life to the full and then lived another with me. But the world was changing and she did not wish to change with it. The old worship of the mother Goddess was all but wiped out by now. The Roman concept of the "paterfamilias" the male head of the family who had absolute power over his wife and children was utterly unfamiliar and objectionable to her.

So we travelled back to her homeland of Scythia where she left me in the forests for the last time. She kissed me one last time, then saddled up her horse and rode out into the plains to meet the sun.

She was a strong and independent woman. One of the last of a line of warrior Queens. She was never answerable to any man and she died as she had lived, on her own terms."


	5. Chapter 5

We sat silent in the flickering firelight. Rahotep leaned back on the pile of furs with Amina cradled in his arms, his eyes distant, clearly buried in his memories of his lost lover.

"She sounds like a wonderful woman. I wish I could have known her" said Bill quietly.

Rahotep gave himself a little shake and smiled. "Ah yes, she was indeed. I was privileged to have known her but I've never told anyone about her before. Thinking about her was too painful for a such a long time that I simply avoided talking about her."

Arzosah turned her huge dark head towards him. _"You were very fond of her?"_ she asked.

"Oh yes, I was very much in love........but then, if there's one thing I've learned in my long existence it's that affairs between immortals will always come to an end at some point." 

He regarded us, Bill leaning back against Siriothrax's great paw, holding me in his arms. "Relationships such as the one you have are very rare. It would seem that we are programmed to love another person for one lifetime and no more, but you two have something more than that, something deeper, a connection that holds you together."

Siriothrax lowered his head to our level. _"We had little to do with humans but one thing I do recall from our oldest stories. We dragons can live for many thousands of years while human lives are brief in comparison. However, we believed that humans, in fact, lived many lives. That when they died their spirit would go on and would return to live another life. We believed that sometimes we could recognise the same soul in a different life......"_ he gave a snort. _"Of course, it could just be that humans were very predictable and made the same mistakes over and over again!" His great jewelled eye glittered as he gazed down at us thoughtfully. "But I have come to believe that you two are souls who have met before, who are meant to be together."_

Bill and I stared at each other uneasily.

"What about you Bill?" asked Amina, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence. "you must have met many famous people in your time?"

Bill laughed. "Oh yes! Since I began working with the Authority I've met all kinds of people. Presidents and Movie Stars, Kings and Politicians........you name it. We've met 'em all."

I turned my head to look up at him. "But I was with you then. I want to hear a different story. Didn't you meet anyone interesting before me?"

Bill bent his head and kissed me gently. "There was no-one interesting before you my darling!"

It was my turn to laugh. "Now I know that's not true!" I said sternly. "Seriously.....in all that time you must have met someone famous?"

I looked up at him wistfully and he gave in. "Well.......there was one" he said. "It was when I was in London in the late eighteen hundreds. Lorena was beginning to realise that she had to give me some freedom. I was growing stronger and more independent, so she occasionally allowed me to travel on my own.

"So this would have been before you first met Gerry and Laszlo?" I asked.

"Yes, about thirty years earlier" he answered.

"You told me that was the first time you'd been to London!" I exclaimed indignantly.

Bill looked a little guilty. "Did I? Ah......well I was warned in no uncertain terms that I should keep very quiet about what happened and so I got used to keeping it a secret...... I'm sorry." He took my hand and kissed it gently. "Do you forgive me?"

 _"Of course she forgives you!"_ growled Siriothrax impatiently. _"Get on with the story!"_

We all laughed and Bill continued. "Well, I got involved purely by chance. I had travelled to England with an acquaintance of Lorena's, a member of the Vampire Authority and he had arranged lodgings for me in a safe house in the West End. He had been called in to assist with what they refered to as "publicity" but what was, in fact, quite the opposite. A series of horrific murders had recently occurred in the Whitechapel area and the influx of Police and general atmosphere of panic was severely affecting the local vampire population who were having to move out into less crowded areas where they would be more vulnerable to discovery. Also, the victims of this serial killer, the female prostitutes who lived and worked in the East End, were the very same group as were typically preyed on by our kind.

In this case, unknown to the Police, the vampire Authority was busy assisting them in trying to catch the murderer who had become generally known as Jack the Ripper, although for quite different reasons.

"He was never caught though was he?" I asked.

"What makes you think that?" asked Bill. "He was never caught by the police! But he suddenly stopped his activities in November 1888. There was a theory that he had been imprisoned for some other crime and that was why the murders suddenly stopped....."

"They found him didn't they?" I said, astonished. "They found him and they killed him to clear the way for themselves?"

Bill sighed. "Yes......they did. But that was incidental to my story. One night I was out in a bar in Belgravia when I met a fellow countryman, an American newly arrived in London. We fell to talking casually and he began telling me why he was in London. A good friend of his was due to be married but his fiancée had fallen ill and he had promised to to do all he could to help. However he was obviously concerned that the illness was nothing natural. His name was Quincy Morris."


	6. Chapter 6

I sat up, recognising the name immediately but I said nothing.

"The more he told me about the young lady's condition, the more I became convinced that I knew perfectly well what was wrong with her" continued Bill.

"She seemed to fall sick when she and her mother were in Whitby" he explained. "It appeared to be some form of gradual anaemia. When she returned to London poor Lucy simply became weaker and weaker despite everything Jack or the Professor could do for her!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Jack?" I asked.

By this time Mr Morris had had quite a few drinks and was becoming a little maudlin. "Dr Jack Seward, he's the third in our little group. He and I should be drowning our sorrows together since Arthur got the prize!"

I suddenly dawned on me what he meant. "You all three fell in love with this girl?" I asked. "A popular young lady!"

He sat up straighter at this, although with a palpable effort. "Now you'll take that back sir!" he said sharply, slurring his words slightly and waving a threatening finger at me. "I won't hear a word against that sweet little girl!"

I smiled to myself. "I meant no offence sir!" I said mildly. "Only that your Lucy is a lucky young woman to have gained the love of three such charming young gentlemen." The fact that she had chosen to accept the proposal of the one who, if I had understood him correctly, was shortly to inherit the title of Lord Godalming probably did not influence her decision in the slightest.......probably."

Bill gave me a little smile. "See, I was a terrible cynic back then!"

"By this time my new friend was definitely drunk and, for some reason, I felt a strange sense of responsibility for him. I was unsure whether it was because he was an American or because the young lady he was clearly still in love with had evidently fallen victim to a vampire, but whatever the reason I offered to accompany him home.

He stood up and regarded me with the fixed air of the very tipsy and said "Why that would be very kind of you sir! I must admit to feeling a little off colour myself......"

I helped him out of the bar and hailed a hansom cab. Since his friend the Hon. Arthur Holmwood, who stayed at the Albemarle Hotel in Piccadilly when he was in town, had returned to his estate in Surrey, Quincy was lodging with Jack Seward who ran an asylum at Purfleet. He gave the address to the driver and we set off through the dimly lit streets. On our arrival the good Doctor himself came to the door to meet us and took Quincy off my hands apologising profusely the whole time.

"Please come in sir! I'm most grateful for your care of him" he said, gesturing to one of his servants to take my coat. As he spoke an elderly man came out of a side room and moved to help him with Quincy. 

"Professor Van Helsing! Why thank you!" he said leaning heavily on the older man who laughed and said "Come my young friend. Let me help you!"

Dr Seward repeated his invitation. "No really, that won't be necessary thank you." I answered hurriedly. "I must be getting back to my lodgings." I backed away and climbed back into the hansom cab before he could insist on offering me tea or a bite to eat. As we drove away I noticed, next door to the asylum a run down house in large grounds containing what appeared to be a small chapel. The closed gates bore a sign which would have been impossible for a human to make out in the darkness, but which I could clearly read as Carfax.

An hour or so later I was comfortably ensconced in an armchair in the library of the Authority's safe house in Belgravia reading The Times when two of the council members came over and introduced themselves. One was Henry Gerard, a vampire who I have never seen since, and the other was Olivier de Bretagne who was later to become the Magister for Europe. They welcomed me to London and hoped that I would have a pleasant stay. They also politely made it clear that hunting in the West End was strictly forbidden and that I was not, under any circumstances, to bring any victims back to the Authority.

I smiled. "You appear to have a tight grip on the capital. May I ask if your authority covers the suburbs as well?"

"I should hope so!" answered Henry. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that I met a man in a bar tonight, a human. He's an American and he gravitated towards me after hearing my accent. From what he told me a young lady of his aquaintance is being systematically fed on by a vampire out at Hillingham."

They appeared distinctly uninterested by this information and both turned to leave. 

"She appeared to first fall under his influence when she was staying in Yorkshire, at Whitby" I remarked.

The two vampires stopped dead and turned to look back at me. 

"Whitby?" asked Olivier. "Did you say she met this vampire in Whitby?"

"It would appear so" I answered. "Why? Is that important?"

Olivier heaved a sigh and picked up a folded newspaper from the sideboard. He came over and handed it to me without a word.

It was an account of a ship which had been driven into Whitby harbour during a terrible storm back in August. The ship was a Russian schooner from Varna on the black sea, the Demeter, but the most astonishing thing about the story was that there was not a soul on board except for the steersman who was found with his hands lashed to the wheel and who, on examination, was found to have been dead for several days.

I looked up to see Olivier watching me. "You think he arrived on this ship?" I asked, astonished. "He killed the crew? How foolish was that? Who is this vampire?"

Olivier sat down in the armchair opposite me, Henry taking the sofa opposite.

"His name was Prince Vlad III of Wallachia also known as Vlad Tepes or Vlad Dracula" he explained. 

_"The Dragon?"_ asked Siriothrax, picking up his head.

"Son of the Dragon..... he was named after his father Vlad II Dracul who was a member of the Order of the Dragon, a chivalric order founded by Sigismund of Hungary in the early years of the fifteenth century” answered Bill. “But I found that out later. At this time very few people, even in the Authority, had ever heard of him.

However, he was revered as a hero by his people for driving out the invading Ottoman Turks. His cunning, bravery and iron resolution went with him to the grave, making him a formidable opponent. However, to the Authority, he was a major problem.

“Why are you so interested in this particular vampire?” I asked curiously.

“He is........very much of the old world” explained Henry. He is bound around with the peasant superstition of Eastern Europe. You will note that the cargo of the Demeter consisted of a number of boxes of earth. He has brought them from his homeland as their legends of the Nosferatu, the undead, say that a vampire can only sleep in this kind of earth.”

“But that's nonsense!” I laughed.

“Yes.....but he, himself, believes it and thus he is bound by it.”

Olivier leaned forward. “Do you think you can find this yourng woman?” he asked “We will need to help her.”

"But surely that's not our responsibility! It's his. He's her maker!"

"He's also a law unto himself!" said Olivier crossly. "Since he arrived in London the East End has begun to fill up with fledgling vampires who seem to have followed him from the continent. Fortunately for us there are so many crooks and lowlifes there already that no-one appears to have noticed yet.....but they will.....and soon."

They both regarded me with somewhat more interest than previously. “I wonder....” ventured Olivier “if, since you have already made the aquaintance of one of these gentlemen, you might consider keeping an eye on this situation for us.........”


	7. Chapter 7

I must admit that I was puzzled by their attitude. After all, this Count Dracula was just another vampire surely? And they were representatives of the Authority.

“Why on earth would you need my help?” I asked. 

Olivier sighed. “As I said he is a law unto himself. He was a powerful aristocrat in life. A warrior and leader of his people. As a vampire, it is said that he fed almost exclusively on the peasants from the surrounding villages, and because of this the whole area is rife with superstition. He seems to have no sense of responsibility for those he has turned and this means that the locals have only had to deal with very young and inexperienced vampires, most of whom were abandoned to become blood starved monsters, who are eventually shown the true death by those few who understand what they are. He is a loner who has never lived, or even associated, with other vampires and who thinks himself better than the rest of us. He has no loyalty to the rest of his kind and now, it appears, he has come to spread this mixture of fear and superstition here.

Our agents tell us that he owns several properties around London. He has used several different representatives for this work and we have only been able to trace two of them. One is a man named Jonathan Harker who went out to the Count's home in Transylvania and has not been seen since. The other is a man named Renfield. He also visited Dracula and when he returned he appeared to have gone insane and was confined in an asylum at Purfleet.

“Purfleet!” I said, sitting up. “Would that be run by a Doctor Seward?”

The two vampires stared at me, fascinated. “I understood you to say that you had only recently arrived in London. Now how on earth would you know that?” asked Henry.

“Dr Seward is a friend of Quincy Morris” I explained. “The American I met in the bar last night. They are both friends.....good friends.....with the young lady I told you about, Lucy. I took him back to the asylum in a cab myself, last night.”

Olivier and Henry looked at each other and it seemed that some significant thought was being exchanged somehow. “You have not been inside this asylum by any chance Mr Compton?” asked Olivier.

“Um.....no” I said. I just knew what they were going to ask next. “I just handed him over to his friends. I didn't step over the threshold.” This was the simple truth, but I carefully refrained from revealing that I had, in fact, been invited in by Dr Seward.

“That's a shame!” exclaimed Olivier. “We could really use someone on the inside. We have to speak to this Renfield. We also need to find out where these properties of the Count's are. So far we've only found reference to one and it was written in French. It referred to the place as “Quatre Face”. Presumably meaning open on four sides?” He gave a particularly gallic shrug of his shoulders.

“Quatre Face” I said thoughtfully. “If this place is in England it might be pronounced “Carfax” might it not?”

Olivier watched me expectantly. 

“There's a large estate of that name right next to the asylum. I noticed it last night.” I said reluctantly. “He's right next door......”

“You're proving to be very useful Mr Compton. For a vampire who has only just arrived here you've managed to provide us with more information on the Count than we've had for some time” said Henry, his eyes never moving from mine. “Strange how he manages to control others.....particularly the young.....”

I glared back at him angrily. “Are you suggesting that he's influencing me? I've never even met him!”

Olivier reached out and put a hand on Henry's arm. “Please....don't take offence Mr Compton. It's just that we need help with this situation.......”

I sighed. “I wasn't entirely truthful with you just now. I didn't enter the asylum, but Dr Seward did invite me in.”

Henry and Olivier exchanged another significant glance. 

“Your new friend didn't need your help?” asked Olivier with a smile. “He wasn't quite as drunk as all that then?”

“Oh the Doctor had a friend with him who helped him. Professor........something or other.”

Olivier raised an eyebrow. “Professor.........”

I sat back, thinking. “I can't quite remember the name. It sounded.......German, or Dutch perhaps? Van......Van Helsing! That was it!

Olivier had gone, if possible, even paler than was normal for a vampire. “An elderly man?” He asked. “White haired, but strongly built?”

“Yes, that describes him quite well.” I answered, thinking back to the man I had only seen for a moment the previous night.

Olivier turned to Henry with a worried expression. “Abraham Van Helsing!” he whispered. “Oh he's gone too far now! Dracula has brought potential disaster upon us. He has to be stopped Henry! We have to tell the High Council about this.”

Henry nodded slowly. “Yes......you're right. If this man Van Helsing is as dangerous as you say Olivier we must take action before he does. But you're the only vampire who has actually met him!”

They both paused and turned slowly to me. “Except for Mr Compton here of course.”

I looked from one to the other. “Well, I'd like to be of help gentlemen, really I would. But I can hardly just turn up at the asylum and ask to be taken into their confidence now can I?

Olivier had to agree that I was right. They would just have to curb their impatience and wait. For my part, I agreed to return regularly to the bar where I had met Quincy in the hope that he would return there.


	8. Chapter 8

It was almost a week later and I was losing hope that he would return when I finally spotted him shoving his way up to the crowded bar, his arm around another man. I heard him order a brandy and pass it to his friend, then he moved through the crowds towards the door to the toilets. To get there he passed by me and I turned and smiled at him. For a moment he looked at me quite blankly and then he appeared to recognise me. 

“Why Mr Compton!” he had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “I owe you an apology sir. I had far too much to drink the other night. You were very kind to see me home.

“Not at all!” I said, still smiling. “I trust that your young lady friend is recovering?”

His face fell and I immediately knew what had happened. “Alas sir, poor Lucy died a few days ago. Arthur and I have just come from the funeral at Hampstead Cemetery.” He said. “You'll forgive me but I have to get back to him, he's devastated.....well, we all are.”

He hurried away and, after a moment's thought, I left the bar and headed for the Cemetery. This was my chance to met this mysterious Count Dracula. I assumed he would come to retrieve his progeny, but I couldn't have been more wrong. I found the Westenra tomb without too much trouble and settled in to wait. I had to give up my vigil at dawn but on the second night, as I watched from hiding, it was not the Count who arrived but the young lady's three suitors and the vampire hunter, Van Helsing.

I stood under the trees as still and silent as only our kind can be and watched as the four men entered the cemetery. They opened the door of the tomb with a key and disappeared inside. I waited for a few minutes and then they emerged again. The older man, who I recognised as Van Helsing, was talking to the doctor. My acquaintance Quincy was walking beside the fourth young man who, from his extreme pallor and the expression of complete horror on his face, I assumed to be Arthur Holmwood, or rather Lord Godalming as he was now, the young woman's fiancé.

I observed Van Helsing reach into his bag and draw out several wafer-like biscuits which he crumbled up and mixed into a putty like substance. I could not imagine what he was doing until he began to place strips of the mixture along the cracks in the doorway and I realised with a shock that the wafers must be the host. The wafers used in holy communion to represent the body of Christ. He was attempting to seal the tomb to prevent the girl from returning to her coffin. The poor child was clearly unaware that there was anywhere else she could go.

I watched, fascinated as the four men moved into the shadows to wait. The night was overcast and heavy clouds were being blown overhead as, down the pathway in the faint moonlight, came the slim figure of a woman. She was wearing a long, white robe which was torn in places and stained slightly with blood. Presumably the one in which she had been buried. She was carrying something in her arms, and as I peered into the darkness I saw that it was a child. I felt a pang of horror at the thought of feeding from a child but almost immediately a wave of sympathy for this poor creature. Clearly she had been abandoned by her maker as the Authority had described. 

Just then she began to move towards the tomb, still carrying the child and the four vampire hunters moved out to block her way. The stopped and drew back, surprised dropping the child. Then she seemed to see Holmwood for the first time and moved towards him, clearly hoping that he would help her. For a moment it seemed that he would, but then Van Helsing moved between them and held up a tiny crucifix. Now we know that these symbols have no real power over us, their only power is in our own belief and clearly the young woman did believe in the power of the cross. She stopped and cowered back as Van Helsing spoke quietly to Holmwood, asking him if he should continue with his work. Holmwood, clearly in shock, agreed and for a moment I thought that I was too late. Then, to my relief, I saw Van Helsing pull some of the putty like substance from the door and allow her to pass, closing it behind her and re-sealing it. He then picked up the child and led his friends away, telling them that they would return tomorrow.

As soon as they had left I slipped silently across to the door of the tomb. Curious, I placed my hand over the slight gap in the doorway that the professor had sealed with his strange mixture. I felt nothing, as I knew that it would have no power over me. Slipping my fingers into the gap I pulled the door open. It appeared that Van Helsing had more faith in his seal than in the lock as he had failed to use it. The interior of the tomb was cold and damp, heavy with the smell of decay and I determined not to linger any longer than I could help.

Lucy's coffin lay within a large and elaborately carved sarcophagus with a heavy stone lid. I pushed this aside, slid the lid off the coffin and looked inside. Quincy was right, she was remarkably beautiful. If nothing else Dracula certainly knew how to pick good looking women!

"Lucy!" I said urgently. "Come on now, wake up!"

Her eyes opened slowly and she looked up at me. "Who are you?" she whispered, her eyes wide with fear.

"I've come to help you" I held out a hand. "Come on! You must come with me."

"She sat up and took my hand obediently, climbing out of the coffin. "Did Arthur send you?" she asked hopefully.

I took her arm to steady her and sighed. "No Lucy.....I'm sorry but Arthur can't help you now."

"Him then?" she said. "He sent you?"

I paused. "You mean the Count? Your maker? No, I'm afraid not. 

"Then I should wait here!" she exclaimed. "Arthur will come for me, I know he will!"

"You don't understand Lucy, they will return tomorrow night to kill you, to deliver the True Death. Is that what you want?"

Her beautiful face took on an expression of disbelief. "How could they do that?" she cried. "They all three swore that they loved me! They have been corrupted by that old Dutchman, Van Helsing! I thought he wanted to help me!"

"He did, in his own way" I explained sadly. "I believe he tried to prevent Dracula from turning you but now.......now they look on you as a monster. You must come with me Lucy, we can help you. Believe me, however much you love him, you can never go back!"

She looked at me curiously. "That means something to you doesn't it?" she asked softly. 

I felt my heart twist painfully in my chest as I remembered Lorena's harshest lesson. "Yes, it does." 

I sat down on the edge of the great stone sarcophagus and pulled her gently down beside me. "I was like you once Lucy. Young and foolish. But my maker did not abandon me. Quite the contrary, she adored me.....she would never.....will never, willingly let me go. When she turned me I was on my way home from the Civil War. I was going back to my family. My wife and two children, but I never made it. When I left for the war my little daughter Sarah was old enough to understand what was happening but my son Thomas was just a baby. I had been vampire for about three years when Lorena and I returned to Louisiana where I was born."

I felt Lucy's hand tighten on mine but she said nothing, sitting quietly and listening.

"I heard that there was smallpox in the area and I had to go back." I turned to her, tears making my eyes smart. "I had to know....you can see that?" I said.

"Yes.....of course" she whispered.

"I gave Lorena the slip and went back to my home. My wife, Caroline, answered the door to my knock holding my old rifle. It tore at my heart to think that she was living in such fear." 

I put my head in my hands to hide the tears. "I should have been there to protect her, to protect all of them!"

Lucy reached over and put her arm around my shoulders. I looked up at her with tears in my eyes. "She flung herself into my arms and I knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. I went into the front room and I felt as though I had died all over again. My little son Thomas, my child, was lying in a tiny coffin. At that moment I truly wished that I had died in the war. At least then I would have been spared this horror. There is no pain worse than the loss of a child."

I sighed. "But it was by no means over. Caroline reached down and took hold of my shoulder, turning me to face her, and saw the blood tears on my face. She fled from me and snatched up the rifle again. I tried to talk to her but she was terrified and she shot me in the shoulder. When she saw how fast the wound healed she was even more terrified. To her, I was just a devil, a monster. One who had taken the form of her husband but still a monster."

I turned back to Lucy. "And this is how they think of you. As a monster." I reached over and stroked her smooth cheek. "A very beautiful one, but a monster nonetheless. If they find you here, they will destroy you."

She sat for a while in silence, taking in my story. "What happened?" she asked softly. "With your wife I mean?"

"I glamoured away all memory of my visit. But first I buried Thomas, the soil of his small grave mixed with the blood of my tears. I wept bitterly for the loss of my wife and my son.....and then I left, and never returned, or at least......not until the last of my family were long dead."


	9. Chapter 9

I took Lucy with me back to the safe house. She followed me, wide-eyed through the elaborately decorated hallway and into the drawing room with its rich deep leather couches, the ambiance that of an expensive gentlemans' club. I had asked the doorman to fetch Olivier urgently when we arrived but it appeared that he was out and would not return for at least an hour so I headed upstairs. Lucy followed me obediently to my room where I suggested that she remove the torn and stained robe she had been buried in and take a shower while I found some fresh clothes for her.

She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at me. "You're very kind, and I don't even know your name....."

I smiled. "How ungentlemanly of me! I really should have introduced myself before inviting a lady to my room shouldn't I?" I said. "My name is William Compton....but you can call me Bill."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, looking honestly puzzled. "He.......he didn't even come back for me, and yet you're prepared to help me. Why?"

I sat down on the bed beside her. "I told you that my maker didn't abandon me Lucy, but she did something almost worse. She kept me from other vampires. She was obsessed with me and constantly afraid that I would leave her, so she withheld from me information that I needed to know. How to find and interact with others of my kind. She kept me isolated so that I had to rely on her for everything. From what I've heard of your maker, Count Dracula, he's not the sociable kind either. Normally, on arrival in London, it's considered polite to call on the Authority and introduce yourself as I did, but Dracula hasn't done this. He's not been seen by anyone here. In fact, they're looking for him right now."

I stood up and laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "He's done a terrible thing to you Lucy. He's turned you against your will. In fact, you weren't even aware of what was happening to you were you?"

She shook her head. "It was like a dream. The first time I saw him in the churchyard at Whitby I was sleepwalking, and after that he always seemed to come to me in my dreams."

I snorted in disbelief. "The first time you might have sleepwalked to the churchyard but then he glamoured you Lucy. He hypnotised you. That's why you can't remember exactly what happened. You never stood a chance......"

She sighed. "Poor Mina, she must have been so worried about me. And she had Jonathan to worry about as well."

She looked up at me and obviously realised that I had no idea who she was talking about. "Mina's an old friend of mine" she explained with a smile. As I watched, her face fell as she realised that all her old friends were now lost to her. She looked down and I saw the trace of a blood red tear on her pale cheek. 

I waited a moment and she raised her head, her gaze steady and turned to me. "Jonathan is her fiancee. He had gone to Romania on business and had disappeared. She was terribly worried about him and now I think she was right to worry. I believe that the man he went to meet was Count Dracula."

"Jonathan?" I asked. "Jonathan Harker? A solicitor?"

"That's right" she answered.

"You need to take a shower Lucy, and then tell your story to my friends. They'll be very interested to hear this."

She shrank back immediately. "Will......will you be there?" She asked tentatively.

I smiled down at her. "I'll be right there with you, don't worry. They only want to ask a few questions. No-one will hurt you Lucy, we only want to help you."

Half an hour later Lucy and I were seated on one of the large chesterfields in the drawing room. Lucy was wrapped in a long robe and curled up in the corner of the sofa.

"What can you tell us about him Lucy, about your maker?" asked Olivier, his voice gentle and full of his natural Gallic charm. "We need to find him.....can you help us?"

She moved across the sofa until she sat beside me, lost and frightened. I put an arm around her shoulders. 

"Don't be afraid Lucy, we can help you. I promise." I said.

"But I......I don't know much. He never told me anything really. If you want to find him I'm afraid I won't be much use to you."

"I doesn't matter. That's not why I brought you here, we'll help you anyway. Just tell us what you know."

"It was in Whitby, that's where he found me. On the night that ship arrived. They said that someone saw a great black dog jump off just as it grounded and run up to the churchyard........and that's where I first saw him."

Olivier turned to Henry and said "He can change his form? Did you know this?"

"One of those that we brought in from the East End described him as changing into a great bat." He said quietly. "It looks as though he is one of those who can."

Lucy watched them, her eyes wide. "Is that what I am now? A monster?"

Olivier and Henry both looked shocked at the idea.

"No Lucy" I said gently. "We are not monsters. At least.....we don't have to be."

"But those children...........I never meant to harm them, but I was so hungry!"

"They'll be fine, don't worry." I said reassuringly. "You didn't do them any permanent damage. They'll recover. Your new life will be what you make it Lucy. It need not be mapped out for you by your maker.....of that much I can assure you."

We sat together for another hour or so, Olivier and Henry in turn questioning Lucy, but it was obvious that the Count had used his considerable influence to prevent her from even getting a good look at him. She was able to tell us, however, that the young solicitor, Jonathan Harker, was alive and recovering in an Abbey somewhere in Romania, having escaped from the Count's castle and fled. She had received a letter from her friend Mina, who had gone to Romania to bring him home.

"Interesting" murmured Olivier. "Tell me Lucy, your fiancee and his friends Dr Seward, Mr Morris and Professor Van Helsing. What do you think they will do when they return to the tomb and find you gone?"

"I really have no idea!" she said. "I would think that Arthur would be relieved. He would prefer to forget all about what happened in Hampstead Cemetery, but I suspect the Professor Van Helsing is not the type of man to let go so easily. When Mina returns and learns of my death I don't doubt that she will offer to help them. After what happened to Jonathan, they will be equally anxious to track down the Count."

"Hmm......perhaps we should let them do the work for us?" suggested Henry. "If they find him there would be time enough for us to step in."

"What exactly do you intend to do with him when you find him?" I asked curiously. "They mean to destroy him, presumably you will bring him here and hide him?"

Lucy sat up suddenly. "Bring him here?"

Olivier smiled down at her. "Don't worry my child. He failed to claim you.....that means that he has given up any rights he may have had as your maker. We'll take care of you now."


	10. Chapter 10

"Just a minute!" I said. "That's not what happened...."

"Actually, that is what happened" said Bill with a smile. "You Librarians put too much faith in books! What you read was fiction. It wouldn't have made such a good story to say that they'd failed in their "mission" now would it?"

"So........they didn't go back to the tomb and stake her?" I asked, confused.

"Well they probably went back to the tomb" answered Bill. "But they were too late. By that time Lucy was safe with me.

The next night I left Lucy to explore the safe house and went back to the bar where I'd last seen Quincy and his friend Lord Godalming. This time I had backup from the Authority. I sat on the same bar stool in the corner of the room and waited for hours until, to my relief, they walked up to the bar and ordered a couple of whiskies. I caught Quincy's eye and raised my glass in a friendly greeting and was pleased to see him bring his friend over and introduce him. 

"Art! This is Mr Compton" he explained with a sheepish grin. "He was kind enough to help me get back home the other night after I'd overdone the bourbon!"

"Please! Call me Bill" I said, holding out my hand. The hand that I'd had wrapped around the glass candle lantern on the bar so that he wouldn't notice the unnatural chill of my flesh.

He shook my hand warmly. "It was good of you to look after him Bill. For a man who hails from the American West he really needs a nursemaid every time he hits the booze!"

"I was sorry to hear of your sad loss." I said quietly. 

Arthur's face immediately became the polite, blank mask of the English gentleman, unwilling to show any emotion before a stranger. Quincy, however, had no such reticence. 

"Alas, it's much worse than we feared!" he said.

Arthur put a hand on his arm. "Quince! We don't need to worry Mr Compton with our problems" he said warningly. "Besides, I doubt if he'd believe you anyway....."

I looked into Arthur's clear blue eyes and I could see the effect that the horror of Lucy's fate had had on him. I touched his mind gently with my glamour, just enough to calm his agitation slightly. "I've travelled widely in the last few years" I said calmly. "I've seen many strange things.....things that appeared to have no rational explanation."

"There, you see Art? I suspect that Bill might be able to help us" said Quincy hopefully. 

Arthur and I stared at each other for a moment. I thought of poor Lucy, clearly deeply in love with this man and unable ever to see him again. "I'll help you all I can" I said. "Tell me what happened?"

Arthur watched me for a moment more and then appeared to come to a decision. He raised a hand and beckoned to the Landlord. 

The man hurried over, still polishing a glass. "What can I do for you my Lord?" he asked.

"Do you have a back room we could use?" asked Arthur.

He looked doubtful. "Well.....you know I can't allow gambling on the premises my Lord, it's illegal. I wouldn't want to lose my licence!"

"We only want to talk, somewhere private" explained Arthur.

The Landlord's face cleared immediately. "Oh, well of course my Lord! Come this way please."

I got up from the stool and saw my two minders from the Authority lift their heads and move to follow me. I waved them back with an unobtrusive gesture as I followed Arthur and Quincy to the back room of the bar.

We talked for about an hour. Quincy began explaining what he knew and gradually, when it became obvious that I was not going to laugh at them, Arthur joined in. They told me how Lucy had been stolen from them by something that drank her blood. How each of them had given their own blood in transfusions in an effort to save her and how they were now determined to destroy this monstrous creature with the help of Professor Van Helsing. 

"How do you propose to find him?" I asked curiously. This was, after all the main difficulty.

"Well, the Professor seems to think that we can track him through the boxes of earth that were the cargo of the Demeter" explained Arthur.

This Professor clearly knew what he was doing. This was just what the Authority had proposed. I didn't mention that we had already traced some of the boxes to the Carfax estate, right next door to the Asylum at Purfleet.

"You should come back with us and meet Jack" offered Quincy.

"Your friend Van Helsing......will he be there?" I asked, feigning a mere mild curiosity.

"No. He's gone back to Amsterdam to do some research" answered Arthur.

This was a great relief. I certainly had no wish to meet a man who not only believed in vampires, but also might well be able to identify them. Particularly one whose name was known to senior members of the Authority. I suspected that he would be a great deal more difficult to fool than these two young men. I invented a business meeting which would take me out of town the next day and agreed to call at the asylum after sundown that night.

A hansom cab provided by the Authority dropped me off the next night and the door was opened by one of the Doctor's assistants. I stepped confidently over the threshold safe in the knowledge that Dr Seward had given me an invitation on the previous occasion. 

"The gentlemen are in the library sir. I'll just show you up. We need to go through the asylum.....this way."

He led me down a wide corridor lined with small rooms each with a small barred window in the locked door. With a slight shock I realised that these must house the inmates of the asylum. I could hear someone banging on a door and demanding that someone fetch Dr Seward as he had to talk to him urgently.

"That's just Mr Renfield sir. Take no notice of him" said my escort. 

As we passed the door I peered curiously in through the window. A man with unkempt grey hair and dark eyes was holding onto the bars and peering out, shouting for the attendant. However the moment he saw me he fell silent and backed away, his eyes locked on my own. I knew instantly that he had somehow recognised me for what I was. 

"Master!" he whispered. "You have been sent by the master?"

I shook my head, unable to speak from shock and he backed away, squeezing himself into the furthest corner of the room, his eyes still on me. There was another barred window behind him opening onto the grounds and, just for a moment, I thought I saw two red points of light, like eyes, looking in at me.....then they were gone.

"Odd!" said the man. "I've never seen him react that way before."

I forced myself to smile at him. "Who can predict the actions of a madman?" I said lightly, walking on down the corridor. He peered in at Mr Renfield, cowering in his corner, for another moment and then hurried after me.


	11. Chapter 11

I spent an uneasy couple of hours in Dr Seward's study hoping that the madman Renfield's obvious fear of the Count would stop him from mentioning any suspicions he might have about me to the staff. I was sure that, if the Count did have a hold over him, it would ensure his silence.

Later that same evening, back at the authority, I sat in one of the great overstuffed leather chairs deep in thought until Olivier came in and sat down opposite me. 

"I've some news for you. We've traced the solicitor" he said. "Harker? He and his wife landed at Southampton last night and took a carriage to Exeter."

"His wife?" I asked.

"It appears that they were married abroad and came home as soon as Mr Harker was well enough to travel."

"So Lucy was right" I said thoughtfully. "Her friend Mina went to Romania to fetch him back to England. If he really has been at Dracula's home then he could have useful information."

"Quite possibly" answered Olivier. "And it appears that they're on their way to London."

"Then I think it would be helpful if I introduced myself to Mrs Harker" I said.

Olivier laughed. "I'm sure you can be very charming William" he chuckled. "I don't wish to disparage your success with the ladies, but what makes you think that a respectable married woman will be willing to speak with a strange man who accosts her in the street?"

I smiled to myself. "Because I won't be alone" I explained. "I shall have her great friend Lucy Westenra with me."

Olivier regarded me thoughtfully for a moment. "You'd be taking a dangerous risk William!" he said. "What if she has already learned of Lucy's death?"

"Who would have told her?" I asked, leaning forward eagerly. "She's only just returned to England. Lucy's father died several years ago and her mother passed away from a heart condition on the same night as Lucy, God rest her soul. John Seward told me himself tonight that he had found her letters in Lucy's papers and intended to write to her care of the Solicitor's office, but that he has not yet done so."

"And just what did you discover from these amateur vampire hunters?" he asked with just a hint of sarcasm, "Have you any information for us?"

I thought back to the conference I had attended back at Dr Seward's asylum. "Lord Godalming's agents had traced two of the shipments" I said. "Six boxes went to an address in Whitechapel and a further nine were taken to a house in Piccadilly, overlooking Green Park. They will arrange the destruction of these boxes in the hope that it will restrict the Count's movements."

I paused, thinking. "There's one other thing. I saw Mr Renfield at the asylum. The other solicitor......he also saw me and I'm sure he recognised me as a vampire. He appeared to think that I had been sent by the Count, he called him "the master". It seems that he still serves the Count in some way......or at least, he wishes to do so. And there was something......something outside his cell in the darkness. I could swear that I saw a pair of eyes watching me. I think it was him, the Count. I think he was there, watching us."

"We're closing in on him Bill!" said Olivier. "If you think you can talk to Mrs Harker then go ahead. If Lucy will agree to go with you then that's fine, but it has to be her choice."

"Of course!" I was shocked that he would think I'd try to force her into helping me.

"She's been checking out the wardrobe we keep here with some of the ladies. She seems a lot more relaxed" he said, standing up. "Are you hungry Bill?" he asked. "We have a selection of girls to chose from. They're all well cared for and healthy...." He eyed me speculatively. "You could take one to your bed too if you like?"

I had to admit that the thought made me uncomfortable but, in those times there was no alternative. At least the girls were well rewarded and lived far more comfortable lives than those who serviced the human males in the East End.

"Thank you Olivier. If you would send one up to my room?" I turned away, still slightly embarrassed. 

"Of course!" Olivier patted me companionably on the arm and I headed upstairs.

Later, when I explained our purpose, Lucy readily agreed to help me. I believe that some of her enthusiasm came from the thought of seeing her friend Mina again, although we both knew that she would learn the truth soon enough. We resolved to try our luck the very next night and soon after dusk I was waiting impatiently in the foyer for Lucy to join me. I was peering into the rather dark mirror on the hallstand adjusting my silk cravat when she appeared on the stairs. 

She was wearing a long full skirt in a cornflower blue and a fitted cream jacket with matching blue piping around the collar and the pockets. Her blonde hair was piled up in a mass of curls and decorated with a large blue flower. 

She smiled happily at me. "What do you think?" she asked. Her obvious pleasure in her new outfit made me smile back as I offered her my arm.

"You look delightful my dear. I shall be the envy of every man in London!"

She giggled and we stepped out into the bustling street outside and I hailed a hansom to take us to Picadilly.

Lucy had told us that Jonathan Harker was a creature of habit and always lodged in the same hotel when he was obliged to come to London on business and so we decided to start there, to take a walk around the area and, as luck would have it on our second circuit of the block she spotted her friend and her new husband heading back to the hotel.

We moved to intercept them as if by accident and Mrs Harker spotted Lucy and stopped immediately.

"Lucy dearest!" she ran to her and they embraced. "Why what are you doing here? Where's Arthur and.....who is this gentleman?" she eyed me disapprovingly, obviously well aware that I was not her friend's fiancee.

"This is Mr William Compton" said Lucy. She glanced at me, clearly uncertain what to do next as we had not counted on Mr Harker being present. However, it appeared that Mrs Harker was not going to be able to talk to us for long.

"I'm sorry Lucy dear, but I need to get Jonathan back to the hotel. He has had a shock and he's not fully recovered yet" she said, sounding a little flustered.

"Indeed you look a little pale Mr Harker. Please, don't let us detain you." I put a hand on Lucy's arm.

He was in fact looking quite ill and he replied faintly. "I've just seen someone...... a man I truly hoped was not in London, outside Guilianos on Picadilly."

Could this be the Count I wondered. It certainly seemed to have shaken Harker considerably. 

Lucy pressed a card with the address of the safe house into Mina's hand. "Please Mina.....if you need to speak to me, you can contact me here. Although you may not want to after tonight......"

I moved my hand to Lucy's slim waist and drew her away. "Some other time perhaps? I'm sure we'll meet again" I tipped my hat politely to Mrs Harker, nodded to Jonathan and we turned away.

I thought that we had lost our chance for Mrs Harker would soon learn of her friend's death and who knew what they would tell her? However it seemed that I was mistaken for two nights later I was sitting in the Drawing Room with Lucy, reading the evening paper when George, the doorman, entered with a folded note.

"Miss Lucy?" he said hesitantly. "A messenger boy just handed this in at the door."

Lucy took the note and gasped. "Bill! It's from Mina! She's in the coffee shop around the corner and she wants to meet us.....now."

I thought for a moment but I was sure that I could handle one woman, even in a busy coffee shop. "Very well.....let's see what she wants!" I said, taking her hand.

We slipped around the corner and I glanced in through the window to check who was inside. Only two tables were occupied and Mrs Harker was sitting at a table on the far side, clearly upset and angry. I put a hand on Lucy's arm, moving into the coffee shop ahead of her.

I pulled out a chair and invited Lucy to sit down before taking the other chair. 

"What's happened Mrs Harker?" I asked. 

Mina had placed her bag on the table in front of her and was clasping it so tightly that her knuckles were white. "You understand what's going on here don't you Mr Compton" she said firmly. "Can you help us?"

I was slightly taken aback by her bluntness but something had clearly happened which had upset her and I assumed that she had met with Dr Seward and Professor Van Helsing and that they had told her about Lucy's death. She kept glancing across at her friend as though to confirm that she was really there.

"I think I understand" I said carefully. "And I want to help you."

Just then the people at the other table got up and left leaving us alone. Mina watched them leave and then leaned forward.

"Tell me the truth Mr Compton......what has happened to Lucy?" her eyes had slid sideways to Lucy who sat, carefully immobile and silent. They both looked at me, waiting. 

I looked back into Mina's worried eyes and made a decision. "Lucy is dead Mrs Harker" I said quietly. "At least.....her human life has ended. She has been changed into......something else, something no longer really human."

I don't know quite what reaction I expected. My muscles tensed, ready to jump up and catch her if she tried to run, but she remained still and her wide brown eyes glazed with tears. "Who did this to her?" she asked.

"We believe that it was a creature known as Count Dracula" I answered simply.

Mina sat in silence for a moment, then blinked her tears away. She straightened her shoulders and looked up at me with a determined expression. "I'm glad you told me the truth Mr Compton" she said. "I would never have been able to trust you otherwise. It must have been a difficult decision for you."

"It's a difficult thing to hear" I said. "Equally difficult to believe, but you don't appear surprised?"

She sighed and sat back lifting the bag down onto her lap. "No......I'm not surprised. I've spent the last few days transcribing my husband's diaries, everything he set down about his visit to the Count. I've also typed up Dr Seward's diaries from his phonograph records, starting when he began to treat Lucy on her return from Whitby."

She gave a little sob and reached over impulsively to take Lucy's gloved hand in hers. "Oh Lucy.....I'm so sorry. I should have known that there was something badly wrong but I thought it was just the sleepwalking again."

"There's no way you could have known what was happening" I said. "And if you had tried to intervene he might have attacked you as well."

Mina took a handkerchief from her bag and dabbed gently at her eyes. "Well, I can help now!" she said, pulling a sheaf of typewritten pages from the bag. "This is all the information we have so far about the Count. I've spent days typing all this up and putting it into order for them and now they tell me to shut myself up in my room and keep out of the way! How could they? They wouldn't know half what they do now if it wasn't for me!"

Tears appeared in her eyes again, this time I thought they were tears of of anger and frustration. "I can't bear to see Jonathan keeping things from me! We've always told each other everything! Doesn't he trust me any more?"

I reached over and took her hand in mine. "It's not a question of trust Mina. This man is very dangerous. I'm sure they only want to protect you."

She gave a very unladylike snort. "Well I don't want to be protected! I want to know what's going on! I want to help! And most of all I want to know how it is that you know so much about this creature......" 

Ah! I sat back, frantically trying to think of some excuse. Then Lucy gave a little laugh beside me. 

"You see! I told you she was clever. She's brave too, and angry at what Dracula did to Jonathan" she turned to me. "She could help us."


	12. Chapter 12

I sat back in the chair thinking, with both Lucy and Mina watching me expectantly. It was all very well for the Authority to virtually order me to help them out but how far did they expect me to go? Clearly Mina had been told about our kind by Professor Van Helsing and she appeared to believe him, but how much had he told her? And what exactly?

I looked into her intelligent grey eyes and saw only an overpowering curiosity. She seemed to have no fear of Lucy despite the fact that I had just informed her that her friend was effectively dead. She had said that she trusted me.......I decided to trust her.

"Mrs Harker, I......."

She leaned forward slightly. "Please Mr Compton.....I should like you to continue to call me Mina if you would?"

I smiled. "Very well Mina. And you should call me Bill, but you may not wish to once you learn that I am one of the very same creatures that your husband has described. A vampire, just like Count Dracula.

Lucy put a hand on my arm. "That's not quite true" she said. "You are not like him.....and neither am I."

We both watched Mina warily as she stared at us for a moment. "They told me that Lucy had become like him.....but I didn't believe it. Is it really true?" she asked, turning to look at Lucy. "They say that you are a monster, they want to destroy you along with the Count. Dr Seward told me that he and the Professor went back and opened your coffin, but you were not there."

Poor Lucy looked so stricken that I reached over and took her hand in mine. "They don't understand Lucy" I said gently. "Everyone fears what they do not understand. They think of vampires as Godless monsters, revenants who have come back from the dead to wreak havoc on the living. And sadly they are right to fear us. We certainly have the potential to be very dangerous since even the weakest of us is far faster and stronger than any human. And we do prey on the living, although it's perfectly possible to do so without harming them. The Count was a powerful and ruthless man in life and it seems that he hasn't changed. I think you should be very careful Mina. He clearly has no scruples about attacking women."

"I suppose that's part of the reason why Jonathan wants me to stay indoors after dark" she said thoughtfully.

I glanced out of the window at the lit gas lamps. "So he doesn't know you're here?" I asked.

"I've come out with Dr Seward's cook" she explained. "She's taken the cab on to Covent Garden and is coming back to pick me up later."

"I see!" Poor Harker didn't appear to have much idea of the spirit of the young woman he'd married. She was obviously made of sterner stuff than her sweet, gentle friend Lucy.

"I would be safe indoors wouldn't I?" she asked. "Professor Van Helsing says that the Count is restricted in many ways and that he cannot enter a property without an invitation." She looked directly into my eyes. "Is that true?"

"Yes, he is quite correct in that respect." I said carefully.

"Well then, she'll be fine won't she?" asked Lucy. "No one at Jack's asylum would invite him in surely?"

I gave a little sigh. "I'm afraid there is one who might. Mr Renfield. One of the good Doctor's patients. When I saw him the other night it seemed to me that he was already under the Count's influence. He might well be persuaded.......or even compelled......to invite him in.

Mina went a little paler, her pallor enhancing the contrast with her glossy black hair. "The professor gave me this to protect me" she said, reaching into the high lace collar of her blouse and pulling out a thin gold chain on which was suspended a small gold crucifix. "He said that the holy cross would burn his flesh. Will this protect me Mr Compton?"

I sat still for a moment, undecided. I knew that I really shouldn't reveal too much about us but I couldn't bear to think of this charming, brave and intelligent woman imagining that she was protected when I knew otherwise. I could always glamour her afterwards, I thought. I would probably have to do that anyway.

"I'm afraid he is mistaken" I said.

Mina looked completely shocked. "But......this is the symbol of the Holy Church!" she said. "Surely......."

I reached across the small table and took the cross from her hand. The chain was still around her neck and so I had to lean nearer to her. I held the chain in my fingers so that the little cross lay on the palm of my hand. This close I could sense the warmth of her skin and smell a sweet flowery perfume as she stared up at me, her grey eyes wide with shock. For a moment I wondered what had frightened her and then I realised that her proximity had run out my fangs. I closed my lips over them and pulled myself together.

"You see?" I said, holding up my hand. "No burning!"

I released the little cross and sat back. "We vampires are not creatures of the devil. Yes, we are circumscribed in several ways but religion has nothing to do with them!"

Lucy was watching me with a lively interest. "I seem to recall the Professor hanging a necklace of garlic around my neck and over the windows." she said curiously.

I had to laugh.

"Holy water?" she asked. "How about that?"

"If you try to fend off a vampire with garlic and holy water" I said, struggling with laughter "all you'll get is a wet, angry vampire.......with bad breath!"

Both girls giggled and I saw with relief that Mina's sudden fear of me had receded. With a slight shock I realised that I wanted to retain her good opinion of me. I pulled on a leather glove and reached into my pocket, drawing out a long silver chain which I placed carefully around her neck.

"This, on the other hand, will help to protect you" I explained.

Lucy reached forward to touch the chain and I snatched her hand back so fast that Mina jumped. "No Lucy! That really would burn you" I said. "You have a lot to learn!"

"It's silver?" she asked.

"Yes. Silver will burn your flesh, as will sunlight. But you can survive pretty much anything else except for a wooden stake through the heart." I smiled at the horror on her face. "Mind you......that would finish off pretty much anything." I said lightly.

As I spoke I heard a carriage pull up outside and Mina stood up. 

"That will be my ride home" she said. "Mr Compton, tomorrow night they plan to go into the old chapel on the Carfax estate to search for him. Will they be safe?"

"I have to admit that I don't know. Van Helsing seems to be more knowledgeable than any mortal I've ever met before and the Count is in a new and strange environment so he may be more wary...... " I picked up the sheaf of papers from the table. "Thank you for this Mina. I'm sure it will be very helpful. And please......will you take your husband's advice and stay in your room tomorrow night?"

She gave me a little smile. "Very well Bill, I'll do it for you!"


	13. Chapter 13

"Will you please sit down! You're driving me nuts pacing like that!" snapped Olivier. 

He was sitting in the drawing room of the safe house watching me.

"You gave her the silver chain didn't you? Then she should be okay, that's if he can get in at all." he said in a slightly more soothing tone.

"But what if he does get in? What then?" I asked anxiously. "We know he glamoured Lucy. What if he persuades her to take it off?"

"Look Bill.....you've done all you can. Why are you so concerned anyway? You've only just met her!"

I stopped my pacing and sat down suddenly. "I don't know!" I said. My frustration evident in my voice. "There's just something about her.....he's already taken Lucy, I don't want him to take Mina as well."

I stood up again. "I have to go out there Olivier! I have to find out what's happening!"

"Bill, come on, think about this" he replied. "He knows they're onto him, he knows they'll be looking for him. He'd be a fool to go back there.......and from what we've learned, he's no fool!"

"But he's no coward either!" I said. "I don't think he'll allow himself to be dissuaded from his plans by mere mortals, do you? All we know about him suggests that he's a warrior, a leader, an aristocrat who's used to getting his own way by any means necessary. I think that if he knows they're looking for him he'll be _**more**_ likely to turn up not less. And if Harker is there, then he's likely to go after his wife to punish him."

Olivier stared up at my anxious expression for a moment, considering. "Very well, you may be right. But don't go alone. Take a couple of our security guards with you, and go armed."

"They won't be able to get into the asylum" I reminded him. "I've got an invitiation, remember?" 

"Then you'll have to get him outside somehow" he said grimly.

Half an hour later we arrived at the asylum in Purfleet. I had two fully armed Authority guards with me and we left the carriage at the main doors and ran around to the rear of the building, towards the Carfax estate. There was a gate in the wall standing open and we raced through following the faint traces of footprints in the damp grass. When we reached the front door I paused and pushed at it gently, it was closed but not locked.

"Right, now you two stay back out of sight. They know me so they won't be too alarmed." 

The two guards obediently held back and I looked into the shadowy hallway. It was clear that no one had lived here for many years, and as I stepped over the threshold I felt nothing but a faint tingle on my skin. A thick layer of dust lay over everything, heavy cobwebs torn with the weight of years of dust hung from the corners of the ceiling like tattered rags and motes of dust floated in the faint moonlight that penetrated the dirty cobwebbed windows. A large oak table stood against one wall and I noticed several deep marks in the thick dust as though something had lain here and had recently been removed.

Looking down I saw a trail of footprints in the dust. There were the older marks of workmens' hobnailed boots overlaid with four sets of prints which stood out sharp and clear. These had obviously been made very recently. As moved through the hallway to the far door, following the prints, I had the uneasy feeling that I was being watched. Looking around I could see nothing even though my eyes were able to penetrate the darkness easily. Shaking off the feeling I headed out across a moonlit courtyard towards what appeared to be the old chapel.

As I approached the door a flurry of activity erupted within the chapel and the door was flung open. Arthur, Lord Godalming, ran out and began blowing a small silver whistle. A moment later two small terriers came running through the courtyard and into the chapel. Arthur seemed suddenly to spot me standing silently beside the door.

"Keep back Bill!" he cried excitedly. "He's sent his creatures to try and foil our plans!"

As I watched in astonishment a veritable flood of rats began to pour out of the doorway with the terriers in hot pursuit. Olivier had told me that he believed the Count could control various creatures such as rats and wolves, evidently his information was correct. I breathed a sigh of relief that there were no wolves left in England and watched, fascinated, as the rats poured through the courtyard and disappeared into holes and cracks in the ancient walls. 

Suddenly I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Standing in the angle of the courtyard wall in a patch of deeper darkness was a shadowy figure. His back was to the wall and his hands, in grey leather gloves, were resting on the head of a cane. He was wearing a grey suit with a double breasted waistcoat and a tall grey silk hat. His long black hair fell in glossy waves to his shoulders and I caught the glint of a diamond stud in his dark silk cravat. His full lips were outlined by a neatly trimmed moustache and a small goatee beard and his dark eyes were fixed on mine. He raised a hand with a smile and touched the brim of his hat in acknowledgement and then he seemed to dissolve into smoke which flowed down into the courtyard and headed towards the main house.

For a moment I stood frozen, unable to process what I had seen. I could hear the others behind me expressing varying cries of surprise at seeing me but none of them appeared to have seen him. This must be the Count! I suddenly realised what was happening and turned to see Jonathan Harker behind me.

I grasped his upper arm in a painful grip. "Where is your wife's room Harker?" I demanded.

Harker tried to pull away from me. "Bill! You'll break my arm!" he cried, struggling uselessly.

I leaned forward and stared directly into his eyes. "Where is she!" I hissed angrily.

He stopped struggling at once. "The garden door" he said. "Up the stairs and to the right."

I let him go and raced back across the courtyard and through the dusty hallway, heading back across the garden to the asylum. I could hear the others being exhorted by Van Helsing to follow me. He alone seemed to have some idea of what was going on.

I smashed the door open and flew up the stairs, bursting into the Harker's bedroom to see Mina crouched at the head of the bed wearing a white lace nightdress and to my great relief clutching at the silver chain around her throat. The Count turned as I entered and hissed at me angrily.

“You! You gave her this?” he gestured at the silver chain. “Those fools would not have known it would harm me. That idiot Van Helsing is still using garlic and crosses!”

He raised his cane and lashed out at me. I jumped back but he was too fast and I felt a searing pain across my cheek as I realised with horror that the head of the cane was made of silver.


	14. Chapter 14

For a moment the pain had me reeling with shock but as he pulled back to take another swing at me I was suddenly furiously angry. Not just for Mina's sake, although that was part of it, but because he had come armed with silver. He was easily strong enough to kill a human with a blow from the cane by itself and so the silver could only mean that he had come prepared to harm another vampire. I flung up my arm to block the blow and felt a crack as one of the bones in my forearm broke.

Just then we both heard the pounding of feet coming up the stairs and Dracula backed off with a sneer. 

"I'll deal with you later" he growled, stepping back. As he did so I saw a wisp of mist gathering about him and realised that he was about to disappear again. My face was throbbing with the pain inflicted by the silver, but two could play at that game! I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small box that I had picked up in the Authority's armoury. Flicking the lid off with my thumb I tossed the contents straight into his face.

He screamed as the powder landed on his skin and in his eyes and frantically tried to brush it off. It was powdered silver. It was not really enough to do any serious damage but it did prevent him from changing form. The door burst open and Jonathan, Arthur and Quincy rushed in. Clearly the younger men had outrun the Professor. The three of them held up wooden crosses before the Count, under the impression that this would render him harmless. Fortunately for them he was sufficiently incapacitated by the powdered silver to notice.

I grasped at Quincy's arm. "Go downstairs Quincy. You'll find two men waiting outside.....invite them in!" I said urgently.

He turned and stared at me. "Please Quincy, will you just trust me?" I asked quietly.

He stared at me for a moment longer and then turned and ran down the stairs. Seconds later the door burst open again and the two Authority security guards rushed in. They paused for a second and smiled at the brandished crosses then one whipped out a pair of silver handcuffs and fastened the Count's hands in front of him. The cuffs were placed over the cloth of his jacket and so didn't burn his skin, but they weakened him enough for the two guards to manhandle him out of the room. He was absolutely furious and struggled against the guards hissing insults in some eastern European language which, perhaps fortunately, none of us understood.

I paused for a moment, waiting for the pain from the burn on my face to ease a little and this was my undoing. As I made for the door Professor Van Helsing entered. He was clearly out of breath but was also brandishing a cross. However his was made of silver. I backed away warily.

"So!" he panted. "You are our friend Mr Compton? You will help us?" He turned to the others. "He is vampire! He came here to rescue the Count, not to destroy him! See!" 

At this he held the cross before him, walking towards me until I was backed up against the wall beside Mina's bed.

"Look! See the burn on his face.......watch it!" 

I saw the shock in the eyes of the three friends as they watched the burn visibly healing. Van Helsing drew back his arm and was about to thrust the silver cross in my face when it was abruptly snatched from his hand.

I think we were both equally surprised and turned to see Mina kneeling on the bed with the cross in her hand.

"Don't you dare harm him!" she said furiously. "Don't you realise that he saved my life? This silver chain he gave me was the only thing that protected me from the Count."

She looked around at her husband and his friends. "He was the first one in here. Where were you?"

They were certainly looking a little abashed. "She's right" said Jonathan. "He got that burn you mentioned defending my wife. We all saw it!" He looked around at the others for support. "He threw something at him which slowed him down so that those other fellows.....who were they anyway?"

They all turned to Quincy who said slowly "Well.......I guess they were vampires too right Bill? That'd be why I had to invite them in."

Van Helsing looked at him as though he thought he should have been locked up in one of the cells downstairs. "You invited them in? After all I've told you?"

"Hey! They were on our side! They got rid of him didn't they?" he asked, looking around for support.

"But they will not 'get rid of him' though!" said Van Helsing angrily. "He's one of them!"

He turned to Mina and held out his hand. "Give me that cross Madam Mina." he said firmly. 

Everyone froze for a moment waiting to see what she would do. I was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Mina pulled open the top of her nightdress and dropped the silver cross inside. I liked this girl, she really had some spirit!

"I most certainly will not!" she replied sharply. "He will not harm any of us...." she turned her head to look at me. "You won't, will you Bill?"

"Of course not!" I said patiently. I was still standing with my back to the wall and I remained where I was, trying to appear unthreatening. "Come on! I've met you all several times now. I even joined in your little conference the other evening. Have I ever shown any indication that I'd harm any of you?"

They looked at each other, rather shamefaced. "Well no...." admitted Arthur. "You haven't."

"What will they do with him Bill?" asked Mina.

Damn it! She was too sharp. I had really hoped to avoid having to answer that question.

"I don't really know" I admitted. "But they.....my superiors in the vampire Authority, will certainly keep him under control. We have lived among you in secret for centuries without too much trouble until he arrived. He can't be permitted to endanger the rest of us."

"How many of you are there?" asked Arthur, sounding horrified.

Before I could answer, Mina reached out and took my hand. "You really are like him aren't you Bill? You feed on human blood?"

I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it gently. "I have no option Mina. I need it to survive" I said sadly. "But I have never turned a human, and I haven't killed for a very long time. It's not necessary."

"So how do you survive?" she asked curiously.

"There are those who know of our existence. Those who are prepared to serve us."

"Women?"

"Yes."

"They let you feed from them?" she asked, her sweet face twisted into an expression of distaste. "Why would they do that?"

I sighed. "Because they are very well paid" I said, bluntly.

"That's disgusting!" said Van Helsing, somewhat predictably.

I turned on him angrily. "Why?" I asked. "Compare these women with the whores who work in the East End. Who sell their bodies to human men in Whitechapel and risk being murdered and disembowelled by that.......what did he call himself? Jack?"

Van Helsing backed off a little. 

"The women who serve us are well paid and cared for and they are definitely not at risk of being murdered. Quite the contrary in fact. We are more than capable of protecting them from any of the low life humans who throng the streets of London. As I said, we have lived alongside you virtually unnoticed for centuries and we will not permit Count Dracula to upset this delicate balance."

I turned to look at the others. "No, we won't kill him. But we will prevent him from doing any more damage and I'm afraid that will have to be sufficient as we will not allow you to kill him either."

There was silence in the room as everyone took this in. For a moment I thought I might be in trouble but then Harker sat down on the bed and gathered his wife into his arms. "I would prefer to see the Count dead myself but.....you saved Mina's life and for that I'll take your word that he won't trouble us again."

I breathed an inward sigh of relief. "Very well. I need to get back to the Authority but I'll see you again."

I moved towards the door but Arthur stepped in front of me. "Wait! What about Lucy? The Professor told us that she was.......that she had become like....."

I smiled at his obvious embarassment. "Like......me?" I put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm very sorry Arthur, but he's right." 

His face, which had begun to show a faint hope, fell as I spoke. "I know this isn't what you want to hear but truly, she's better off with us. We can take care of her. I'm afraid you've lost her Arthur. Believe me I do know how you feel. I lost my wife and my children when I was turned."

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. "I'm very sorry to hear that Bill. But......you'll see that she's cared for? My little Lucy?"

"I promise."


	15. Chapter 15

The two guards had taken Dracula back to the Authority in my hansom cab and so I had to make my own way back. When I returned I noticed a distinct change in the atmosphere. Several vampires were hanging around in the hallway as if by accident and the two armed security guards stood on either side of the door to the drawing room. They nodded politely to me and stepped back as I walked in to find Olivier sitting on one of the chesterfields opposite the Count. He was leaning back in the corner of the sofa, one arm thrown across the back, his silver topped cane resting against his knee, looking for all the world as though he owned the place. 

I walked across in front of him and as I passed him I curled my foot behind the cane and flicked it up into the air. Reaching out I caught it by the end opposite the silver knob.

The Count didn't so much as move a muscle but Olivier clearly wasn't impressed. "Bill! What do you think you're doing?" he snapped.

I swung the end of the cane towards him. "Do you see this? What do you suppose that is?" I asked. "The last time I saw this it was taking a slice out of my face!"

I turned back to the Count to find his dark eyes fixed on mine and then, rather to my surprise, he looked away. "I must apologise Mr Compton. I was not aware that you represented the Authority."

I sat down beside Olivier and laid the silver topped cane on the floor at my feet. "Would that have made a difference?" I asked. "You were obviously prepared to meet another vampire. In fact, you saw me in the courtyard."

He smiled. "You do not understand Mr Compton. You appear to live a very comfortable life here. Where I come from there are many vampires, but they are mere shells. Animated corpses who feed on the living. It is necessary to carry something to protect oneself" he explained reasonably.

"And why is that I wonder?" I asked sarcastically. "Could it be because no-one has ever helped them to understand what has happened to them?"

The Count's face changed subtly. I suddenly saw the aristocrat. The man who believed himself better that the rest of us. "You were cared for by your maker Mr Compton? Monsieur de Bretagne tells me that she was......is.....madly in love with you still? How sweet!" 

He gave me a completely insincere smile which he then wiped from his face completely. "Well I was not! No-one taught me, no-one cared for me. I lived and died in a world where the strong survive and the weak are simply not worth bothering with. If we are to keep our place in this world then we must fight for it! Those who are unable to do so are not worthy to join our ranks!"

"And Lucy?" I asked, gritting my teeth against my anger. "Was she worthy?"

He laughed. "Oh come on! She was just a diversion. I was half starved when I got off the Demeter. I thought myself fortunate to find her in the churchyard and if her friend Miss Murray hadn't turned up I'd probably have drained her on the spot." 

I saw the tip of his tongue slip out and curl around one of his fangs. "Delicious too.....as I'm sure you've found out by now." He must have seen the disgust on my face as his harsh laugh rang out again. "What? You've not had her yet? I'm surprised at you Mr Compton. You brought her here after all. I'm sure she must be suitably........grateful."

I forced myself to sit calmly on the sofa beside Olivier and not rise to his taunting. 

"So what do you propose to do with him Olivier?" I asked.

The Count laughed. "You think it's his decision? Do you seriously think that you can keep me here against my will?" he asked with a superior smile.

Olivier smiled blandly back at him. "We managed to get you here without too much difficulty! I don't see any problem myself."

Dracula shifted slightly and his eyes narrowed. 

"Don't think you can just slide out under the door either!" warned Olivier. "That powder that Mr Compton used to incapacitate you? It's mixed into the paintwork here. It won't do any harm, but it does prevent vampires from changing form within these premises. As I see it you have two options. You can return to your castle in Transylvania and do as you wish, or you can stay in London and obey our rules. Which is it to be?"

"And if I decide to stay in London and not obey your rules? What then?"

"Then you will not leave this building" answered Olivier firmly. "If you behave yourself you may remain in these rooms. If not you will be held downstairs in the cells."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Let's be reasonable about this shall we. You said yourself that we have a very comfortable life here. You've gone to a lot of trouble to obtain properties in London, why shouldn't you live in one of them?"

"Perhaps not the one at Carfax" I suggested mildly.

Olivier smiled. "No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea! But you have others. You could have rooms here while they are being prepared for you. There is much we can teach you about living amongst humans and there is also much we could learn from you."

"And all I would have to do is submit myself to your authority? Something I have never done before in all my years on this earth."

Olivier laughed. "We don't expect submission or abject obedience. Just that you behave in a way that doesn't alert mortals to our existence. There are many vampires in the world who have never even heard of us. They learn sensible precautions from their makers and never need to know about us. We only ask that you don't do anything which would endanger the rest of us.......is that unreasonable?"

The Count glanced around at the luxuriously furnished room. "You certainly seem to live well here" he said thoughtfully. "You have mortals to serve you?"

"Some" answered Olivier. 

"Is that not a risk?" he asked. 

"Those who know about our true nature are generally faithful to us" said Olivier. "We look after them and treat them well and so they trust us."

"What about Mr and Mrs Harker and her friends?" asked the Count. "They all know rather more than is good for them."

Olivier glanced at me with a little smile. "Oh I think we can deal with them. A little glamour should put that right."

Count Dracula leaned back on the leather chesterfield and sighed. "Very well then. You have convinced me. I shall remain here for the time being and we shall see if I can.......adapt, to your ways."

I felt, rather than heard Olivier's sigh of relief.


	16. Chapter 16

I didn't accompany the vampires who went to glamour Jack Seward, Quincy Morris and Lord Godalming. The two guards who had brought Count Dracula back to the Authority led the small party as they had already been invited into the Asylum. Professor Van Helsing had already returned to Amsterdam and the High Council arranged for him to be dealt with there.

The only remaining people who knew what had happened were the Harkers. They had moved out to a small village outside Exeter where Jonathan had been recommended as a partner in a new firm of solicitors. I argued for hours with Olivier but I had to admit in the end that I was the only vampire who would be able to get close enough to do the job.

And so I did. I smiled at Jonathan who, although surprised to see me, invited me in trustingly and.......I glamoured him. I'm not proud of it, but it had to be done.

Afterwards I left him in a deep sleep and waited for Mina to return from a shopping trip. When she entered I was sitting quietly in an armchair in her tiny sitting room, so still and silent that, at first, she didn't notice me.

"Oh my......Bill!" she stood with one hand to her breast. " How did you get in? Where's Jonathan?"

"He's fine, don't worry" I said, getting up and taking her hand. "He's sleeping."

"Sleeping? He left you here and went to sleep? He'd never do that!" her normally pale complexion went a shade paler. "What have you done?" 

"I've put him to sleep for a while, trust me he'll be fine." I held her hands until she calmed a little. "I promise you I haven't harmed him. I've just......modified his memory slightly. We can't allow him to simply go on as if nothing had happened. He knows too much, you all do."

I encouraged her to sit down and I could see her quick brain working over what I'd said. "I should have known. It would be too dangerous to leave us with the knowledge of what you are. And the others?" she asked. "What have you done to them?"

"They will not remember what happened over the last few weeks, or at least......they'll remember it differently" I explained. They won't remember me, certainly."

I reached out and brushed a strand of her glossy hair back. "What about you?" I asked. "I can take away all those bad memories for you."

"All of them? But they weren't all bad" she whispered. "Please.....don't do it Bill. I don't want to forget you."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You'll need to keep this a secret for the rest of your life. You can never tell Jonathan what really happened."

"I'll never tell anyone, I swear it!" she looked down uncomfortably. "Please, don't misunderstand me Bill. I love Jonathan......but if I'm to spend the rest of my life as the wife of a country solicitor I'd like to be able to remember that my life was once exciting. That I met someone......incredible. Saw things that no one else has ever seen. I'd like to remember that I know the world is not as simple and straightforward as it appears."

"And the Count?" I asked. "Do you want to remember him?"

Her soft grey eyes hardened as she spoke. "I despise him!" she said angrily. "I can never forgive him for what he did to poor Lucy. Where is he now?"

"He is with the Authority in London. They are.....keeping an eye on him." I smiled to myself. "He hates it! I myself have forgiven him. You should always forgive your enemies my dear. Not only is it the Christian thing to do, but I always find that nothing infuriates them more!"

Mina laughed. "You're a very wicked man Mr Compton!" she said.

"You have no idea" I murmured softly. For a moment we sat gazing into each other's eyes. Then she blinked and sat up a little straighter.

"I'll never see you again will I?" she asked.

I had to admit that, if my heart had been capable of beating it would have done so a little faster at the trace of wistful disappointment in her voice.

"I think it would be for the best, don't you?" I said. "Jonathan is grateful to me at the moment, but his gratitude will wear thin after a while. If I tried to become a friend of the family he would soon begin to resent me, and besides......."

I stopped. How could I tell her that seeing her regularly would simply encourage me to attempt to replace Jonathan both in her affections and then in her bed.

She dropped her eyes and began to fiddle with a loose thread on her lacy glove. 

"Yes.......perhaps you're right" she said softly. She glanced up at me and, as our eyes met, I knew that she was well aware of what would inevitably happen if I stayed. 

She stood up hurriedly. "You should be going" she murmured.

I reached over and took her hand. "Remember Mina, you must never breathe a word of what happened here. No-one must ever know. If the vampire Authority were ever to find out that I left your memories intact, well........" I knew that there were members of the Authority who would kill her without a second thought if they knew, but I didn't wish to frighten her any more. "...........I'd be in real trouble!" I finished.

She straightened up and looked me directly in the eyes. "You can trust me Bill. I'll never tell a soul as long as I live."

I knew that, if she did, that wouldn't be very long, but I smiled encouragingly. "Thank you!"

I stood up to leave and she got up and put a hand on my arm to stop me. "Bill .......wait. You saved my life that night and.........I never thanked you."

I leaned forward and kissed her cool, pale cheek. "And you'll never need to" I whispered.

 

Bill's voice fell silent and I felt myself come back from Victorian London to Faery, sitting under the stars with his strong arms around me.

"What happened to Lucy?" I asked curiously. "Did you and she.........."

"No!" answered Bill firmly. He smiled to himself. "She grew in confidence every night, and she was very beautiful.......but I think it was the Count's assumption that I would take her as a lover that made me more determined not to do so."

He laughed. "Foolish of me perhaps?"

"Not necessarily" said Rahotep, thoughtfully. "She would respect you more as a teacher that way, and that was what she needed."

"Well that certainly worked" said Bill. "She stayed with the Authority in London for many years and then left to set up a organisation to help young abandoned vampires. I lost touch with her when I returned to America but, as far as I know, she still runs it."

"So the Authority were satisfied whith how it turned out then?" I asked.

"They thought they had arranged everything perfectly" said Bill with a laugh. "You can imagine their fury when they discovered that the glamouring was a little too late. That the young solicitor, Harker and the doctor, Seward had already handed over their diaries and papers to that mad Irishman, Bram Stoker and he proposed to publish the whole story!

Still......it wasn't as if anyone would believe that it was real! I doubt if even Stoker believed that it had really happened."

"How did they find out about it?" asked Amina.

"As it happened the Authority had a spy in the publishers' office" explained Bill. "Their first plan was to steal the manuscript but Stoker might have had copies and besides, too many people had read it by then, so they confined themselves to making a couple of alterations, such as removing any reference to their good friend Mr Compton!"

I was leaning comfortably against his chest and I sat up suddenly. "It wasn't just what you've told us though was it? I remember a scene where Harker is in the Count's castle and he's shaving. The Count comes in, comes up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder. He scares him half to death because he couldn't see him in the mirror. But you have a reflection and so do I!"

Bill smiled. "Quite right! It proved to be quite useful to us to place a few extra bits of misinformation about vampires into the public arena. After the book was published I could lean on the end of a bar up against the mirror and, although people might feel that something wasn't quite right about me, it was obvious that I couldn't be a vampire!"

"Sneaky!"

"Mere self-preservation!"

"And the Count?" I asked. "What happened to him?"

"Ah yes! Well he remained in London.......and behaved himself, for a while at least. But then, when Stoker's book was published, he suddenly became a celebrity." 

Bill laughed. "You wouldn't know what it was like in New Orleans after the Revelation" he said. "Hordes of young women looking for Louis de Point du Lac and Lestat de Lioncourt. Well it was like that in London in the late 1890's. Young vampires flocked to the Authority's headquarters to meet the Count. I suspect that he enjoyed it at first, being worshipped, having others hanging on his every word. But after a while he began to grow bored with them. Although he had been a leader of men he was, at heart, a loner and so he returned to his castle in Transylvania."

"He stayed there?" I asked. "Is he still there?"

"Oh no! He returned to London occasionally on visits but he never stayed very long. As far as I know he's in Eastern Europe somewhere. After the Revelation he went into hiding for a while!"

Bill face took on a thoughtful expression. "I met him a few times again in London actually. He made a point of stopping me in a corridor once. I was quite surprised as I wouldn't have thought he would have anything to say to me."

I can still remember it to this day. He smiled at me and said. "They didn't need to tell me that you had been a soldier Mr Compton. I could tell that for myself. All these others...." he waved a hand towards the hallways of the Authority's headquarters which was crowded with vampires wanting to catch a glimpse of him ".........they are followers, good for nothing but cannon fodder. They are looking for a leader. But you.....you don't need that do you. You showed considerable courage that night, you must have known that I was far older and stronger than you, I can respect that."

He was, at heart a warrior, a harsh and cruel man but fair in his own way.

"And Mina?" I asked quietly.

Bill smiled. "I never went back, it wouldn't have been right. But the Authority kept an eye on her, for security purposes. She lived a long and happy life with Jonanthan and she never said a word about what really happened in those few weeks of her life that became such a famous story."


	17. Chapter 17

Rahotep smiled. "I guess you were never really a fan of his then?"

"Not really" answered Bill. He shifted slightly and Siriothrax raised his great bronze head.

 _"I thought you had a tale to tell us?"_ he asked turning to Arzosah, who was lounging on the other side of the fire, her tail coiled around her haunches like a great black cat.

 _"That's right.....so I did!"_ she replied with a yawn that displayed her long, dagger-like fangs. _"I was going to tell you the tale of Draco and how he came to reside in the stars."_

Rahotep reached behind him and pulled another log from the pile beside the cottage door. He tossed it onto the fire and a fresh shower of sparks began to drift up into the starlit sky. Arzosah heaved herself up until she was sitting upright, her long tail now curled around her forepaws. She looked even more like a great cat, her black scales glittering with blue and green highlights in the flickering firelight.

"I had a mate .. once....long ago." she began, glancing over at Siriothrax who was watching us with his head on one side. I heard a low rumble of laughter come from her chest. "Oh long before him! This tale was told to me by my mate before he was taken from me. 

It happened many thousands of years ago before the worship of one God was common on your world and Dragons came to be associated with the old pagan religions. When the world was young and Dragons still lived in the high mountains. It was a time of war and battles raged over the plains. Our kind kept well away from humans even in those times but we knew that battlefields were a source of easy meat and, when the dead had been buried we would sometimes fly in and chase away the ravens who fed on the dead horses.

That was where they met....... Draco and Owain.

Owain was a farmer, from the south in the wide fertile valley of the river known as the Hirwain. He was a strong young man, his skin burned brown and his muscles hardened from long hours working in the fields. His father died when he was young and he worked the farm with his two brothers and his mother for many years, until she passed away from a fever.

Owain was the youngest son and his mother's favourite and so he was the one who sat in the corner of the room while the priestess prayed over her. When she fell into a fitful sleep the woman turned and looked up at him and he saw the blue tattoo of the crescent moon covering half of her face. 

"I'm sorry but I'm afraid she won't last long" she said sadly. "Your father? Should you fetch him?"

"He died ten summers ago" said Owain.

"Your brothers then? She needs to say her farewells before she passes over to the otherlands." She stood up, a tall woman with the commanding presence and the distinctive blue tattoos of a priestess of the moon goddess. Owain nodded and went to fetch his brothers.

The next day they buried her in the sacred grove behind the village and Owain's two older brothers took over the running of the farm. Although he loved the place his ambition was to be a soldier and to that end he had spent his spare time training with the sword which his father had left to him. He knew that his mother did not approve and that she would worry constantly if he left to fight and so he had never left her......but now........he was free to follow his own fate.

The kingdom was ruled at this time by local lords who each ruled an area on behalf of the High King. Each of these lords had a band of riders who served as a small army to fight for him in local quarrels and to help to keep the peace. However most of these riders were the sons of other lords and nobles, honour bound men who swore to serve a particular lord until death. Owain knew he could never hope to be taken into a warband. Men like these would despise him as a farmer's son, a yokel, a man without honour.

There were, however, mercenaries who travelled the land hiring their services to whoever could pay them. There was always work for soldiers in those days. The lords were proud men who took any slight as a reason to start a fight and blood feuds between the great houses were common. For five years Owain roamed the kingdom, hiring himself out as a soldier and, with the training and experience he received became known as one of the finest swordsmen in the land. However, in the last few years Owain had heard tales of a threat to the kingdom from a race of barbarians who lived in the mountains to the north. 

After completing his last hire Owain packed up his belonging and loaded them into his saddlebags. He fetched his warhorse from the lord's stables and set off north to seek out his fate.

 

Several hundred miles to the north Brangwen slipped on the wet cobblestones in the yard and dropped the bucket of water. She cursed under her breath and righted the bucket. With a sigh she heaved it back to the well and refilled it. 

"What took ye so long girl? I could a' fetched half a dozen buckets in that time!" Lord Caradoc's cook was under a lot of pressure with several other lords with all their households staying in the fortress of Caer Gwitheryn for the meeting so Brangwen didn't blame him for his short temper. After all he and his wife had taken her in as an orphan when she might have been thrown out of the fortress to make her own way in the town which surrounded the walls.

"I'm sorry Rhys, I slipped" she said.

His stern demeanour changed instantly. "Are ye hurt lassie? It's frozen hard oot there!"

"Oh yes, I'm fine don't worry. Is there anything else I can do......"

Just at that moment they heard a horn sounding outside the gates and Rhys grinned at her. "Go on lassie.....I know ye want to see the warband arriving." He gave her a little push towards the door. Brangwen gave him a kiss on the cheek and ran back out into the stable yard where a dozen riders were coming in through the great iron bound gates. She watched as the great warhorses paced restlessly into the cobbled yard and then one of the riders turned and saw her.

Owain was at the back as they rode into the fortress and all he was thinking of was getting inside before a fire. He had done this so many times, riding into yards in isolated keeps and fortresses all over the land. However, there was something different this time. Usually the nobles kept their women out of sight and only the serving women and the grooms and stable lads were around when the soldiers arrived. But this girl couldn't be a serving girl. His eyes were locked on her as his horse came to a stop. Dark hair tumbled around her shoulders and he gave an involuntary gasp as her grey eyes turned to him and she smiled. 

It was a simple, but friendly smile. No doubt a smile that she would have given to any stranger, but suddenly Owain felt his heart pounding. He suddenly knew one thing so obvious that he felt he had always known it. That he loved her and that somehow....he had loved her all his life......


	18. Chapter 18

The minor lord who had hired Owain and a few other mercenaries to enlarge his warband had been the last to arrive and so everyone else was already assembled in the great hall when Owain finished getting his horse settled into the stables. He had never really trusted the grooms and preferred to look after his own mount. As he slipped into the hall he immediately looked around for the girl he had seen in the yard. He was tall enough to see over the heads of the men crowded into the smoky room to the long table where the lords were sitting before the great hearth. 

To one side was another table reserved for the family and Owain assumed that the richly dressed lady sitting at the head of the table was Lord Caradoc's wife and the two girls with her were his daughters. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Brangwen sitting at the end of the table. He was blatantly staring when she turned and caught his eye. He looked away, embarrassed, and then looked back to find her smiling back at him.

Brangwen had been watching the great doorway, hoping to see the rider she had noticed in the stable yard earlier. She had the strangest feeling that she knew him from somewhere and yet.......she had never been away from this Keep in her life. How could she possibly know him?

"Is that him then?" asked Morwenna, leaning over to Brangwen curiously.

"Is that who?" asked Brangwen, startled.

"Oh come on! You haven't been listening to a word I've said! You've had your eyes glued to the door ever since we came in."

Morwenna was Lady Brianna's younger daughter. Brangwen thought she was obsessed with men, but since she was soon to be betrothed to the son of a neighbouring lord she supposed that it was understandable. Morwenna had been brought up to believe that her role in life was to marry and run a great man's household. She refused to believe that Brangwen did not share her obsession and now she appeared to think she had been proved correct.

"He's quite good looking, but really Brangwen! He's just a mercenary, not even an honour bound rider. I'm sure Mama can do better for you than that!"

"Your Mama has not the least interest in finding me a husband!" snapped Brangwen. "And I wouldn't want her to anyway...... I'm quite capable of looking after myself!"

Morwenna sniggered. "Is that why you pestered old Taliesin the scribe to teach you to read and write?" she asked. "So that you could look after yourself?"

"I was interested that's all" said Brangwen patiently. She was used to the fact that the ladies of the keep thought she was a little odd. After all, there was little point in writing when hardly anyone else could read what you'd written and there was almost nothing to read either. The old scribe had given her a few old books that he had hidden away but there was very little chance that she would ever acquire any more.

She glanced back over at Owain and was gratified to see that he was still watching her. He seemed so.......familiar, somehow.

Owain tore his eyes from hers with some difficulty and tried to concentrate on the information Lord Caradoc was trying to give them. 

"..........so there have now been about half a dozen raids on small farmsteads to the northwest of here. So tomorrow my Captain Gerreint........" he waved an arm and a rangy, red-headed man stood up "......... will lead a group north to check up on the nearest farms."

There was some arguing over who was to make up this group and Owain was determined to be included. When this was settled he turned back to find that Brangwen had left with the other ladies. He felt a pang of disappointment as he left to return to the barracks with the rest of the warband.

The next morning he was up early and was grooming his horse in the yard when Brangwen came out to fetch water for Rhys, the cook.

He glanced around him quickly and saw that the rest of the selected group were all busy with their horses. He knew from experience that if he was observed talking to a girl he'd have to endure hours of joking from his fellow soldiers but for the moment they were all busy. Taking the opportunity he strolled casually over to where Brangwen was struggling to lift the heavy bucket.

"May I help you with that?" he asked.

Somehow Brangwen managed to look surprised, although she had been aware of him ever since she stepped out of the kitchen door.

"Why thank you!" she said, a little breathlessly. "It is a little heavy...."

He picked up the bucket and followed her into the kitchen. "Could you put it here please.......?"

"Owain" he said quickly. "My name's Owain. And you are?"

Brangwen pushed the hair back off her face and smiled up at him, causing his heart to skip a beat. "My name's Brangwen. Thank you Owain, that was very kind of you."

They stood staring at each other for a moment.

"Whatever is the matter with me?" thought Brangwen. Whenever she looked at him she couldn't seem to catch her breath. Could Morwenna be right after all, she wondered.

"Well.......I must be going" said Owain, reluctantly. "We're leaving early to check on some of the outlying farms."

Brangwen put a gentle hand on his arm. "Do be careful won't you?" she said softly.

Owain tore his eyes from her with an effort and ran out to the yard where the rest of the patrol were already mounting up. He had set out on patrol many hundreds, perhaps thousands of times before but never before had there been anyone to worry about him. Someone who would care whether or not he returned.

 

They had been riding for half the day, following the lead of one of Lord Caradoc's men. They had passed two farms, the farmers and their families hurrying out to meet them to ask for news. They all had stories of raiding parties from the north but they had evidently not come this far. The youngest member of their party was beginning to get bored.

"This is a waste of time!" He muttered. "They wouldn't dare raid so far south!"

"You're an expert now Rhodri?" said Gerreint patiently. "I think we'll just check anyway......."

Suddenly one of Gerreint's men, Cadryc, stood up in his stirrups. "Look there!" he called, pointing to the other side of a small copse of trees. 

Owain raised himself up in his stirrups and saw a column of smoke drifting over the trees. Suddenly the troop was racing through the trees and they burst out of the little wood to see a burned out farmhouse.

It was the smell that Owain noticed first. A sickly sweet smell that seemed to coat the inside of his throat, making him cough and retch. The farm was deserted and eerily silent, the cattle and horses had obviously been taken by the raiders. They dismounted and the troop split up. Owain and Gerreint warily exploring the remains of the farmhouse, but, rather to Owain's relief, finding it empty.

As they emerged they heard a shout from the direction of the barn and they set off at a run around the corner of the farmhouse. They found the first body outside the doors. The dead man was leaning against the wall, still clutching a three pronged pitchfork in his hands. He had been killed by a sword thrust to the chest, the blood drained into a black sticky pool on the ground before him.

But worse was to come. Inside the barn were two more corpses and these men had not died so easily. Owain gazed in horror at the two figures stretched out on the floor of the barn. Each had been disembowelled, their bodies split open and the intestines hauled out and laid on the dirt floor alongside them. Owain heard a strangled cry from Rhodri and glanced back to see him throw up his meagre breakfast rations beside the doorway.

Gerreint was staring down at the bodies in a daze and jumped when Owain put a hand on his arm. He spun around and hurried out of the barn, Owain could hear him shouting orders to the men, instructing them to bring out the bodies and get them decently buried. Owain took one last look at the horror in the barn and hurried after him. He knew now that he would do anything necessary to stop these barbarians. If they got further south........his own farm might be reduced to ashes......his brothers.......he could not bring himself to think of it.....would not think of it.

As he emerged back into the daylight he heard a shout from Cadryc and ran around into the farmyard behind the barn. It appeared that the invaders had not had it all their own way. There were two more bodies in the yard but these were not farm workers. Cadryc turned one over with the toe of his boot. The man's chest bore three deep puncture wounds, from a pitchfork perhaps? The other's neck had been half severed by a blow from an axe.

They gathered around and looked down at the bodies. The barbarian warriors were tall, well over six feet and broad in the shoulders and chest. The exposed skin was pale as milk and covered with elaborate tattoos. The warriors' heads were shaved on each side above the ears leaving a broad strip of long black hair running down the centre of their heads like the mane of a horse. The long hair was braided and decorated with beads, feathers and small metal charms of some kind.

"Any sign of the women? Or the children?" asked Gerreint.

"Nothing!" said Cadryc. "They'll have been taken as slaves."

Gerreint turned on his heel and began walking back to the horses. "Let's get these men buried and report back" he said.

"What about these two?" asked Cadryc, nudging one of the dead barbarians with his foot. 

Gerreint turned to look at the smouldering ruins of the little farmhouse. "Burn them!" he answered harshly, turning back to his horse.


	19. Chapter 19

While three of the men began to dig a grave for the farmer and his men Gerreint and Owain mounted up and began to ride in a semicircle around the northern edge of the farm. "I'd say those bodies hadn't been there for more than a few hours and the farmhouse was still smouldering" said Owain. "You're looking for a trail?" 

Gerreint nodded and the rode in silence for a while. Then, on the far side of the burned out farm buildings they found an area where the ground looked damaged. They dismounted and tied their horses to a convenient tree, walking forward carefully, inspecting the ground as they went.

After a few yards Owain stopped and crouched down. "Look at the size of these hoofprints Gerro!" he said. "These horses must be the size of draught animals, they're nearly half as big again as our prints. Iron shod too, look at the nail marks."

Gerreint squatted beside him, thinking. "Perhaps that's why they're moving south" he said finally. "There can't be much good grazing in the mountains. They must envy us our fertile farmlands. Or the grasslands to the west." He stood up. "We should warn the Westfolk."

Owain had never travelled further west but he had heard of the nomadic herdsmen who moved across the grassland with their flocks of sheep and herds of horses.

"Yes......you're right. We should speak to Lord Caradoc when we get back." He looked at the broken ground heading into the rough undergrowth and then into the woods. "They've left a pretty clear trail.....I'd say, about a dozen horses and at least two of them will be without riders" he looked down at Gerreint. "They'll have the women and children from the farm with them too.....that'll slow them down."

Gerreint stood up slowly and brushed the mud from his breeches. "They'll have to stop for the night soon. We'll send Rhodri for re-inforcements while we track them."

 

Brangwen was in her tiny room at the top of one of Caer Gwytherin's high towers looking out over the surrounding landscape. She was supposed to be spinning but the spinning wheel stood idle as she sat on the wide ledge of the window and looked out over the dusty road that led away from the Keep to the north. She knew that the scouting party would probably not be back before sunset but she still sat and dreamed, hoping to catch the first glimpse of Owain returning. From her vantage point she could see the road winding like a ribbon across the cultivated plain until it disappeared into the forest and behind that, on what seemed to her to be the edge of the world, the mountains.

I really must pull myself together, she thought. Lady Brianna will be furious if I don't finish this spinning. She looked over at the pile of raw wool on her bed. Just over half of it had been spun into coarse thread before she had decided to take a break and begun gazing out of the window. So many soldiers had descended on the fortress that all the ladies had been organised to spin and to weave more blankets ready for the cold weather. Brangwen sighed, wondering if she could think of a way to make a special one for Owain, and turned back to her spinning wheel.

Just as she turned she caught something out of the corner of her eye and looked back to the window. Don't be silly, she thought, you know they won't be back for hours yet. But as she peered out across the fields she could definitely see a tell-tale plume of dust on the road. But it was small. Far too small to be the soldiers returning. However as she watched it she realised that it was moving fast. A single rider, heading for the Keep at a punishing pace.

Caer Gwytherin was on the northern borders of the Kingdom, no messenger from the High King, or from any other Lord for that matter, would be riding from the north. It had to be one of the soldiers who had set out that morning, but why only one?

Possible reasons flew through her mind as she jumped down from the window and snatched up her skirts. She flung open the chamber door and raced down the winding stairs at a breakneck speed to the great hall. At this time of day it was empty and she ran out into the courtyard where Lord Caradoc was talking to his head groom.

"My Lord! A rider!" she called breathlessly.

Lord Caradoc turned to see her panting and red faced. "Here! Calm down lass!" he said with a smile. "Get your breath back."

"There's a rider heading this way my Lord, from the north!" she gasped.

Caradoc's broad smile died and he turned to look up at the sentry over the gate who was looking down into the courtyard.

"Hey you! What do you see?" he called.

The man turned and peered out over the farmlands. "Nothing my Lord!" he called and Brangwen realised that her vantage point had been so much higher that she could see much further out. She was just about to try and explain this when the sentry called down again. "Yes! I see him now......a rider heading for the gates!"

Immediately half a dozen men came rushing out of the outbuildings and began to heave open the great, heavy gates just as Rhodri's horse came pounding into the courtyard. He slid down into the arms of one of the blacksmiths and stood in front of Lord Caradoc. His horse stood beside him, head down, its neck and flanks dark with sweat and flecked with foam.

"Well come on man! What happened? Where are the rest of my men?" he asked. "And you!" he pointed at one of the grooms "......take care of that horse!"

Brangwen slipped back out of sight of the growing crowd of soldiers and listened as Rhodri explained what they had found at the isolated farm. "All the men were dead my Lord, and the women and children gone" he gasped out between heaving breaths. "Owain found the trail of the raiders and Gerreint said they'd follow them. He sent me back for re-inforcements."

Chaos erupted in the courtyard as more men poured out of the Keep including the Chamberlain, Ogwyn. His spoke to Lord Caradoc so quietly that Brangwen couldn't hear what he said but Caradoc evidently wasn't happy with his suggestion. 

"My men could be in danger! They need help now!" he said angrily. "We need to leave as soon as possible."

One of the other lords came up and tried to calm him. "Ogwyn is right Caradoc! It'll be dark soon and the raiding party will be stopping for the night. That captain of yours, Gerreint, is a good soldier, he'll track them and keep out of the way until the re-inforcements arrive."

Brangwen watched from the steps of the great hall where she stood with Lady Brianna and the other ladies who had rushed out on hearing the commotion. She could see that Caradoc was frantic to get help to his men but he also knew that Lord Trevyn was right.

He sighed in defeat. "All right! All you men get a good night's sleep, we leave at first light!"

Brangwen walked slowly back through the hall towards the winding staircase that led up to the towers. The other ladies were chattering excitedly and making plans to get up early to watch Lord Caradoc lead his men out, but she could only think of Owain, out there somewhere in the night following the barbarian raiding party. She thought of the women from the farm that Rhodri had said were missing and shivered. 

Just then Lord Caradoc and Ogwyn the Chamberlain hurried past her discussing supplies for the morning and she stepped back out of their way, bumping her shoulders against the carved surround of the enormous hearth. She turned and ran her fingers over the ancient carving, noticing for the first time that the worn stone, in fact, represented the scales of a huge dragon which curled around the hearth, its head on one side and its tail curling onto the floor on the other. She stepped back looking at the hearth carefully. Yes, the carving was very old, worn and cracked in places, but it was definitely a dragon. She wondered why she had never noticed it before......


	20. Chapter 20

Gerreint and Owain were lying in the thick undergrowth just outside the camp the raiding party had set up for the night. The rest of the troop were crouched silently behind them, hidden in the edge of the woods. The raiders had set up their camp at the edge of the trees so that their horse lines were out in the open and more easily guarded. A dozen of their huge, heavy horses were grazing quietly with two of the savages watching over them but the rear of the campsite was not guarded at all.. Clearly the raiders were used to getting clean away, having massacred all the men in the immediate area.

"One of us will stay on watch" breathed Gerreint "while the others get some sleep and wait for the re-inforcements. If they break camp in the morning before they get here then we'll just have to continue to track them."

The began to wriggle slowly backwards when suddenly the flap of the leather tent in front of them opened and a woman ran out. She was wearing long skirts, torn and filthy and had a long gash down her cheek which was bleeding freely. There was a harsh laugh and one of the savage warriors burst out after her catching her easily by the arm and pinning her against a tree. He reached down for her torn skirts and began tugging them roughly up her thighs.

Gerreint grabbed Owain's arm and pulled him down just as he was about to leap up and run forward. "No!" he hissed into his ear. "We can't help her! There's only five of us......we're outnumbered. We have to wait for the others!"

"But we can't just......." Owain looked up at the woman who was now screaming and struggling against the much larger warrior. A few shouts could be heard coming from the direction of the campfire through the trees and the warrior laughed and shouted something back.

"Listen!" whispered Owain urgently. "We can take him! His friends think he's in the tent with the woman. If we're quiet they might not miss him until morning!"

"That's a hell of a risk! If they hear us, we're done for" muttered Gerreint.

"Well I'm not just going to lie here and watch that monster rape her!" hissed Owain. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Okay, okay.....I don't want this to happen any more than you do!" Gerreint raised his head for a second. "There's no one else around, come on...."

They both wriggled quietly through the long vegetation until they were directly behind the long haired warrior. The woman was still screaming as he struggled to rip off her shirt and as Owain raised his head she saw him. He saw her eyes widen for a second and she paused to catch her breath. Owain made a circular motion with his hand trying to encourage her to carry on screaming, hoping desperately that she would understand.

To his immense relief she screamed again and kicked the warrior in the shins, keeping his attention on her as Owain and Gerreint rose silently up behind him. Working together as if by some instinct, Owain drew a long bladed dagger from the sheath on his belt and reached forward, grabbing the long mane of hair and wrapping it around his wrist for a good grip. Gerreint leapt forward and pulled the woman out of his grasp just as Owain jerked the warrior's head back and slit his throat. They both backed away, each dragging their burden until they reached the others.

Owain dropped the body of the warrior in the grass and turned to Gerreint who was holding the woman in his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked.

The woman turned and stared at Gerreint who let go of her hurriedly. "You're from Caer Gwytherin?" she asked.

They nodded.

"Then you're a little late....." tears appeared in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry......we passed through your farm. We saw........" Gerreint paused, unwilling to describe the scene.

The woman's legs seemed to collapse under her and she sat down suddenly beside Owain. "My husband and my son. You don't have to tiptoe around the truth. They made sure I knew what they had done to them."

"Who else do they have in the camp?" asked Gerreint.

"Two of our farmworkers wives" she said. "They intend to sell them as slaves so I don't think they'll harm them. They seemed to think I was too old to sell......."

"And the children?" asked Owain.

"The gods were kind to us.......in that at least. The children were all staying with my sister further south in the valley" she looked around her for the first time. "How many of you are there?"

"Not enough!" answered Owain grimly. "We're waiting for re-inforcements."

The woman glanced over at the dead warrior. "Do you think they'll miss him before morning?"

"Let's hope not!" said Gerreint. "Or we'll all be in trouble!"

 

 

Brangwen had risen early and climbed the steps up to the top of the walls with the other ladies to watch Lord Caradoc and his troopers depart at first light but now she needed to be alone and had returned to her tower room but she couldn't settle down. She worked for some time on her spinning but her mind kept turning to Owain and eventually she gave up and curled up in the threadbare furs on her bed. As she lay there and stared into the fire she could think of nothing but him. The flickering firelight seemed almost to form pictures, the flames blossoming into trees and the glowing coals transforming into the shapes of sleeping men. 

All but one. He was lying in the grass watching a group of tents which had been set up at the edge of the trees.

Owain's companions were waking up as the sun had now been up for several hours. They had all taken turns on watch and were tired but alert for any movement from the camp. They placed themselves in vantage points where they could observe without being seen without needing to be told what to do. One lay down in the grass to the rear of the group and kept a lookout for Lord Caradoc's men.

Brangwen could see that the raiders camp was still and silent, the embers from the previous night's fire were grey and cold. The heavy horses stood with their heads down, resting and waiting for their riders to emerge. As she watched the flap of one of the tents opened and a man came out and stretched his arms above his head. She had never seen anyone like this before. He was tall, with broad shoulders and muscular arms, his legs slightly bowed from a lifetime on horseback. He wore a pair of leather trousers and nothing else, his pale skin almost glowing in the early morning light. A crest of coarse hair ran down his shaved skull and hung down his back in long braids decorated with small charms which caught the light when he moved.

He used a flint striker to light the remains of the fire and filled a metal pot with water from a leather waterbag, hanging it over the fire to boil. After a while three more of the strange looking men came out and began to help themselves to some kind of oat gruel from the pot.

Gerreint and Owain were once again lying in the grass watching the camp when one of the savage warriors stood up and called something towards the tent nearest to them. There was no answer since the owner was lying further back in the undergrowth in a pool of blood.

"Uh oh! We could have a problem!" whispered Owain, watching as the man called out again, sounding impatient and then stalked over towards the tent.

"Damn it!" hissed Gerreint. "Where are those re-inforcements?"

"I see dust on the horizon" came a whisper from the lookout. "They're on their way!"

Unfortunately they were not close enough as just then the warrior burst out of the tent shouting, obviously having discovered that his companion and the woman were missing. Four of the huge savages came running back into the woods and almost fell over Owain and Gerreint. There was a confused scramble for weapons and Gerreint's troop burst out of the trees into the open where they had room to swing a sword.

Owain and Gerreint were both skilled swordsmen but their opponents were not only taller and heavier but they were outnumbered as well. To Brangwen's horror she saw Gerreint take a sword thrust to his side. His cry of pain distracting Owain long enough for someone to land a poweful blow to his head. She saw him fall into the deep undergrowth at the edge of the wood just as the mounted troop of Lord Caradoc's men burst out into the open.

Brangwen gasped with shock and the vision broke. She sat back on her narrow bed, unsure if what she had seen was real or just a nightmare conjured from her worries about the man she now realised that she loved.


	21. Chapter 21

Brangwen sat in the womens' hall sorting skeins of wool with Lady Brianna and her daughters. She was trying to keep her mind occupied for whenever she had nothing particular to think about, it kept returning to the vision she had seen in the fire. The worst part was that she didn't dare mention it to anyone as she knew that no-one would believe her. Or worse, if they did, they would think she was a witch.

She was so bound up in her own concerns that it was not for some time that she noticed the worried expressions of the other ladies. A wave of guilt flowed over her. Of course Lady Brianna would be worrying about her husband, and most of the other ladies had husbands and sweethearts in the warband. It wasn't as if she even really knew Owain, they'd hardly spoken but somehow she felt that she had known him all her life. She excused herself and went to look out of the wide doorway into the empty courtyard. As she thought of Owain it seemed as if the scene before her changed and she was looking out of a different door, across a different courtyard....... waiting for.......someone. Suddenly there was a shout from the sentry on the gate and Brangwen was abruptly startled out of her daydream. 

One of the other ladies came up behind her. "Are they coming back? Quick Brangwen, go take a look!"

Brangwen picked up her skirts and ran across the muddy courtyard and up the steps to the wide walkway on top of the wall. Sure enough, there was a wide column of dust moving along the road towards the keep. She shouted the news down to the other ladies who returned to the hall to wait, but Brangwen stayed where she was, watching the road. She could see individual soldiers now, she recognised Lord Caradoc's great black warhorse at the head of the troop and was relieved that Lady Brianna, at least, would have her man back in her arms tonight.

The men were obviously tired and she saw some with bloodstains on their shirts and breeches, there was a rough stretcher with an injured man on it being pulled behind a horse and she noticed several empty saddles. Finally, towards the rear of the troop she recognised Owain's bay horse. But her heart sank to see that it was riderless. Perhaps he was walking, she thought desperately, there were a few men on foot, but she watched every man come in through the gate and finally she had to accept that Owain was not among them. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Owain was drifting, half awake when he felt a nudge. Someone was pushing him gently. 

"All right Gerro! Leave it. I'm okay......oh Lord of the Earth! My head!" he muttered.

He put his hand to his forehead. "I feel as though the top of my head's going to come off. What's happening? I heard the troops arriving......."

"You must have a hard skull son!" said a strange voice. "You've been out for hours!"

Owain rolled over and opened his eyes. At first he couldn't quite work out what he was looking at. He seemed to be lying beside a wall, but instead of bricks or stone it appeared to be made of overlapping tiles each made of what looked like copper, shading to a greenish tint at the edges as though they had lain unused for a time and had developed a patina. Had he been captured he wondered? Had the savages taken him to some encampment further north?

"You'll have to look higher up than that son" came the voice from somewhere over his head, sounding faintly amused.

Owain turned his throbbing head and looked up. The wall rose higher until he suddenly realised what he was seeing. A pair of massive jewelled eyes looked down on him from the enormous horned head of a dragon. 

Owain was silent for a moment. "So where am I?" he asked, looking around to find, rather to his surprise, that he was still lying on the edge of the woods. The remains of the barbarian warriors' camp was still there and the open area of grassland to the north was scattered with the debris of battle, broken weapons and dead horses.

"What are you doing here?" he asked curiously.

"Food!" said the dragon bluntly. "I've developed quite a taste for those massive horses they ride. Usually I prefer to wait until they have been back and removed anything useful from them." He curled his lip back revealing fangs almost the length of Owain's sword. "The leather straps on the tack tend to get stuck in my teeth....but I was very hungry! I waited until the troopers left and then flew down for a meal."

He lowered his head and eyed Owain who looked back at him without flinching.

"They left you behind son! Although, in their defence, they had several wounded that needed treatment quickly......"

"So do you plan to eat me as well?" he asked.

The dragon sniffed at him curiously. "You don't even appear concerned, much less afraid!" he said.

Owain smiled peacefully. "I always knew I'd meet a dragon one day and that it would bring my death."

The dragon pulled his head back sharply. "How could you possibly know that?"

"My mother ...... well, she had dreams, waking dreams, visions she called them and she swore that what she saw always came to pass, although it was often difficult to interpret her visions" explained Owain.

"When I was just a child she described to me a vision where she saw a man, somehow she knew that this man was me. I was standing in a doorway with a bright light behind me and over me hovered a pair of great wide wings. The wings of a dragon. She said that this was my fate, that the doorway was death, and that I would be brought to it by a dragon. So she never worried about me as a child. Other mothers chased after their boys and told them off for taking risks but she never did. She knew, you see, that I would grow to be a man and that I would journey to the borderlands for that was where men said the dragons lived."

The dragon snorted. "Huh! That doesn't prove anything! The wings could just as well be protecting you from death as bringing it."

"Mother didn't think so......and she was usually right."

He stared down at the young man curiously. "So what are you doing here? Why didn't you stay in the south on your farm? Or flee to the westlands? Why come here to the borderlands where the dragons live?"

Owain smiled thinly. "No man can escape his fate!" he said. "I would rather face my fate head on than spend my life running."


	22. Chapter 22

Brangwen stood on the wall looking down over the little town and along the dusty road to the north. They had brought back Owain's horse without him. She knew what that must mean but somehow......she couldn't quite believe it. She could hear the troopers talking in the courtyard and what they were describing tied in with what she had seen in the fire. A thought suddenly struck her and she ran to the edge of the walkway and looked down into the courtyard.

Yes! There were three women with the troopers. An older woman with a blanket wrapped round her shoulders to cover her torn shirt, and two younger women. The farmer's wife! And the other two women she had heard her speak of to Owain. It was true then, what she had seen was true! Brangwen leaned on the parapet and thought about this for a moment. She had seen Owain take a blow to the head and fall. But if he was dead wouldn't they have brought his body back with them? Perhaps not, she thought. After all, he didn't really belong here, he was just a mercenary, perhaps they didn't have time......

She saw several men being unloaded from stretchers and she shook off her dark thoughts and ran down the steps to where the Fort's healer was directing the exhausted soldiers to carry their wounded companions into the great hall. As she turned to run to the kitchens for hot water she felt a hand on her arm. It was Morwenna. She gave Brangwen a sympathetic look.

"I see your handsome mercenary didn't come back" she whispered. "I'm sorry Brangwen......really, I am!"

Brangwen knew that she meant it. Morwenna might tease her but she had a good heart. She blinked back hot, unshed tears and said "I hardly knew him really.....look I must go, Emrys needs help. But thanks....."

It doesn't mean he's dead, she told herself as she hung a pot of water over the kitchen fire. I saw Gerreint on one of the stretchers with a wound to his side just as I saw him in the vision. I saw Owain fall into the undergrowth be the edge of the woods. Perhaps they just didn't find him? But then....that would mean that he's out there wounded and alone......

Somehow she just knew that he wasn't dead. When she thought of him, she felt that he was alive. But where was he? It was well known that the savages never took prisoners. At least, not grown men. The water began to boil and she took a cloth from a shelf by the fireplace, carefully lifted the pot off the hook and carried it into the hall.

For the next few hours she hardly had time to think about Owain. There were a number of soldiers with various cuts and bruises that needed cleaning and binding up but there were three who were more badly injured and of those, Gerreint was the worst. The sword thrust had pierced his side below his ribs and just above his hip. It was not a long cut but it was deep and as she stripped off his shirt Brangwen could see the pale coils of his intestines through the wound.

"That's bad, girl......very bad" muttered Emrys the healer. "If the sword pierced his guts then he's done for. I've seen it before many times, the wound just goes rotten. The man develops a fever and dies......" He sighed. "I can't afford to waste too much time on a man who probably won't survive. There are others who need my help."

Brangwen had long been fascinated by the healer's art and he had come to rely on her for help almost as much as his official apprentice.

"Why not let me try?" she said. "What harm can it do?" Somehow she felt that she owed it to Gerreint to try.

"Very well! Wash out the wound and bind it up and then we'll see" he said. He looked doubtful but it was worth a try. Gerreint was one of Lord Caradoc's best men and he wasn't looking forward to telling the Lord that his Captain couldn't be saved.

So Brangwen took some clean rags and soaked them in the hot water. She had boiled a small pot for herself and added some honey as she had noticed that honey, smeared on cuts, seemed to help them heal faster without going bad. She helped the gardeners with the beehives in exchange for the honey and made mead with it as well. She held her hands in the hot water for as long as she could stand it and then carefully moved aside the slippery coils and flushed out all the blood and dirt, grateful that Gerreint was unconscious. However the cut was as long as her hand and when she tried to bind it up she realised that the edges of the wound would not close as it would on an arm or a leg. She sat back and stared at the gash in Gerreint's flesh. She knew she had to close it up somehow or the flesh wouldn't knit together properly. If dirt got in the wound would begin to rot and he would die.

Then her eyes fell on Gerreint's leather overtunic which had been cut off when he was brought in. It was a costly tunic, laced up the sides with thin leather threads which passed through punched holes in the front and back. Suddenly an idea came to her. Could she do that? Leather was really just skin wasn't it? She picked up the tunic and examined it carefully. She could stitch two pieces of cloth together.....She laid a clean cloth over the wound and ran for the womens' hall. Burrowing in Lady Brianna's sewing basket she found a coil of tough thread and a large bronze needle. She ran back and tossed them into the boiling water.

Praying to all the Gods that Gerreint wouldn't wake up she carefully made six holes in his flesh, three on either side and used the thread to pull the sides of the wound together. Washing away the blood with a clean cloth she watched for a moment. It seemed to hold! She quickly smeared honey over the wound, covered it with a clean cloth and bound it up with bandages around his body.

Sitting back again she watched him carefully for a while. He seemed to be more comfortable and his breathing was regular and strong. Brangwen began to hope that he would survive. After the way she had seen him and Owain working together she hoped this might be a good omen.

All that night she sat beside him, watching. At one point he began to develop a slight fever and she washed down his face and body with cold water until it passed. By morning she was hopeful that he would recover. How well he would heal was something she could not know, that was up to him now. For the first time in hours she thought of Owain again and walked out into the courtyard, climbing the steps up to the sentry post over the gates.

The sun had just risen and was climbing over the forests to the east. The reddish gold light of dawn had spread across the horizon and in the far distance to the north she imagined that she could see a dark speck in the sky above the trees.


	23. Chapter 23

The dragon looked down at Owain and then lowered his head to the same level. "Well......you certainly don't lack courage son. I'll give you that much!" he rumbled. "The few humans I've met in my long years on this earth have all been terrified of me."

"What would be the point of that?" asked Owain calmly. "You'll either kill me, or you won't. I doubt very much that there's anything I can do about it is there?"

The dragon curled his lip into a smile. "That's very true!"

"And could you stop calling me "son". My name's Owain."

The dragon made a strange sound in his throat which Owain had to assume was laughter. "Very well Owain!"

"What's your name?" asked Owain curiously.

The dragon pulled his head back, clearly offended. "Hah! As if I'd tell you that!"

Owain was honestly puzzled by this response. "Why not? I told you my name."

The great head was lowered again and the glittering eyes regarded Owain seriously. "But then humans do not consider their names to be as important as we dragons do" he said. "The knowledge of my true name would give you power over me."

"Then what should I call you?" asked Owain reasonably. "I can't keep calling you "dragon" now can I?"

The unnerving eyes regarded him for a moment longer. Then he chuckled. "You shall call me Draco. This means "Dragon" in the ancient tongue of your ancestors."

Owain couldn't help laughing. "Fine.....if that suits you? So, Draco, how long have I lain here?"

Draco shrugged his enormous shoulders, making his huge leathery wings rustle. "I got here when the sun was high and it'll be dusk soon so I'd guess most of the day. How's your head? You must have been hit by one of those creatures....." he gave a snort and a puff of sulphurous smoke emerged from his nostrils.

Owain felt the back of his head and then examined the dried blood on his hand. He sat down with his back to one of the trees and looked up at Draco. "You seem to dislike them as much as we do. Why is that? I shouldn't think you'd have cause to fear them. Rather the other way around!"

Draco growled to himself and settled down next to him. "Oh they fear me all right!" he said with some satisfaction. "I've been hunting them for three years now. They killed my mate and two of my hatchlings."

Without even thinking about what he was doing Owain reached out a hand and placed it on Draco's muzzle. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he said softly.

The dragon heaved a huge sigh. "I've lived a long, long time, had many mates and many offspring, but she was young and brave, and very dear to me. The hatchlings were very young indeed....... too young to get away quickly enough when they were surprised by a hunting party and she wouldn't leave them. So they butchered her as well as my children. Those monsters were sitting around a campfire carving daggers from her teeth when I caught them...."

He gave a snarl and Owain saw the faint glow of a flame between his long fangs. "I burned them all......and scattered their blackened bones across the mountains. But it wasn't enough. So now I harry their warbands and pick off one or two when I can."

"Perhaps you should join us" suggested Owain.

Draco looked down at him. He wasn't sure quite what he had expected when he had spotted the man lying in the long grass, but it certainly wasn't an invitation to join him. At first he had thought him dead but when he got closer he could see the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. He hadn't had much interaction with humans in his long life and hadn't thought much of them until now. He was about to turn down the ridiculous suggestion when he remembered the touch of Owain's hand on his muzzle. The man hadn't even thought about it. It was an instinctive reaction to try to offer comfort and Draco realised that he had missed this connection with another living creature. Since his mate had been murdered he had been completely alone. He was surprised at how much the unexpected and un-selfconscious touch of Owain's hand had affected him.

"Well, perhaps I should at that!" he said thoughtfully. "At the very least you'll provide me with a few meals when you kill these savages."

Owain leaned back against the tree and watched Draco as he considered the suggestion. I've just invited a dragon to join our army, he thought. It must be the blow on the head, but it actually seems like a good idea!

"So will you join us?" he asked. "Not only for my company but as many dead horses as you can eat?"

Draco laughed heartily, the earth shaking slightly as he did so. "That's the best offer I've had in a long time. Certainly the most interesting!"

"So can I assume that you're not going to eat me then?" asked Owain.

Draco laid his head down on his paws. "Not just now at least" he said.

"Well that's a relief.......but how on earth am I going to get back to Caer Gwytherin?" asked Owain. "There's no sign of any live horses out there." A thought suddenly struck him. "My horse! I hope he made it out alive!"

Draco shifted his great bulk, making himself comfortable in the grass. "You were fond of the animal?" he asked.

"Well......yes! He and I had been though a lot together" said Owain. "Although, somehow the fighting I've done in the past seems petty now compared to what we saw at that farm yesterday."

Draco raised one of the horny ridges over his eyes doubtfully.

"Well it's true!" said Owain. "Some arrogant Lord's feud usually. Men arguing over who would get the taxes from a ford or a bridge, or swearing vengeance for some imagined slight or other. Stupid, petty squabbles in which too many good men died."

Owain sighed. "Those men at the farm were butchered like animals. They weren't soldiers, they were just simple farmers, doing no harm to anyone. I really think I've found a cause worth fighting for at last."

Even as he spoke Owain wondered if it was the defence of the northern border from the savage barbarians that he meant or if it had more to do with a pair of soft grey eyes that kept intruding into his thoughts.

Draco was watching him curiously. "Well I have to agree with you Owain. The people of the borderlands have been attacked mercilessly by raiders from the north for some time. It's about time something was done to stop these monsters and if you're up for it, I'll be honoured to help you!"

"Well.....first we have to get back home!"

"Oh I think I can help you there" said the dragon with the curl of his lip that Owain interpreted as a smile, "but we both need some sleep. We'll sort that out in the morning."

Owain wasn't sure if it was due to shock or to the blow on the head but he found that, even under these strange circumstances, he was tired enough to fall asleep almost instantly. Draco watched him for a while, wondering at his calm confidence and when, after a few hours, a heavy rain began to fall he stretched out a wing to cover the sleeping man and shelter him from the sudden downpour.


	24. Chapter 24

Brangwen turned to the sentry. "What is that?" she asked, pointing to the north.

The sentry, one of half a dozen who had been chosen for his keen eyesight, peered in the direction of her outstretched finger. "Hmm......flock of birds perhaps? It's a good distance away so it's big....."

"It's coming this way" observed Brangwen.

They watched in silence for a while until Brangwen began to hear a curious drumming sound. A strange repetitive beat like a leather hide slapping against a stone wall. They stood together, neither voicing an opinion on the approaching shape until there could be absolutely no doubt.

"It's a dragon!" whispered the astonished sentry. "It's really a dragon!" 

He leaned over the parapet and shouted the news down into the courtyard. The information was received with gales of laughter from the soldiers who had just got up and were strolling over to the hall in search of breakfast. But one or two were sufficiently curious to climb the wall and take a look. The laughter died on their lips as they saw the massive shape approaching and their comrades in the courtyard, who were shouting insults after them stopped when they got no response and followed them curiously. Soon the walls were crowded with men staring, open-mouthed, at the incredible sight. 

By the time someone thought to run into the great hall and fetch Lord Caradoc the dragon was almost overhead. Brangwen had assumed that it would veer off and fly around the fortress but to her surprise it came straight on and wheeled in a arc around the tower. It was only when it banked to turn around the walls that she spotted the figure perched on its shoulders.

The creature swept around in a wide circle around the fortress just as Lord Caradoc came running out of the great hall, half shaved and pulling a tunic over his damp, tousled hair.

"By all the Gods! It's true!" he cried. "It's a dragon!" He stood for a moment staring upwards, then turned to his men. "Don't just stand there you fools! Get under cover!"

He ran back to the great arched doorway to the hall and stood on the steps ready to dart back inside while the soldiers scrambled back into the barracks and the stables. Brangwen and the few soldiers still on the parapet had a much better view and as the dragon's path took him directly over the wall she recognised the man crouched on the beast's shoulders.

"Owain! It's Owain!" she cried excitedly.

"She's right!" called the sentry. "It's the man who came in with Lord Beryn's men, He was with the group who went out after the raiding party. The troopers brought back his horse without him."

Brangwen was leaning out over the edge of the wall watching as the dragon swept down over the town. When she was sure that he was heading for the meadows beside the river she raced down the steps and joined the flood of men who were following Lord Caradoc out of the gates.

 

Owain had always considered himself to be an accomplished horseman. However, he soon discovered that riding a horse was nothing like riding a dragon.

When Draco had first suggested that he would carry Owain back to Caer Gwytherin he had been excited at the thought. However as soon as he had climbed from Draco's outstretched foreleg up onto his shoulders he realised that this wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought. At first he simply sat astride Draco's broad neck and clung onto the base of the ridge which ran down to his shoulders, as he took off and powered upwards. Each beat of his great leathery wings meant that Owain was flung forward with a jerk and it was all he could do to hang on until Draco reached what he considered to be a suitable height and began to glide southwards.

He turned his long neck to look around and bellowed "You still there son?"

Owain gulped and called back ""Yes.....fine!" without releasing his iron grip. He felt a rumbling in the dragon's body which he felt sure was laughter but he dared not let go.

Once Draco had climbed to a good height his flight consisted of long glides with only the occasional flap of his wings which caused a surge forwards and Owain began to get used to the motion. He began to sit up straighter and look around him. They were flying over thick forest heading south for the plains and Owain could see, far in the distance, the grey stone of the fortress of Caer Gwytherin and the buildings of the small town clustered outside the thick walls of the Keep. In a remarkably short space of time he had to hold on tighter as Draco banked into a steep turn around the central watchtower.

"Where to now Owain?" he called, circling around the fortress. "I could land on one of the roofs, but there's not enough room in the courtyard for me to take off again."

"Down there!" called Owain, pointing to the river. "You can land in the water meadows." 

He glanced down as they passed over the courtyard. For just a second he had a brief memory of his mother's vision as he watched the great winged shadow pass across the flagstones. Then they flew over the top of the wall beside the sentry post and he saw her. Brangwen! She was standing on the top of the wall looking up at them with a smile that made his heart leap in his chest. Was she looking for him? No, don't be stupid, he told himself. She was looking at the dragon, they all were. She couldn't possibly have known he was still alive. They must all have thought him dead or they wouldn't have left him. 

Just then his thoughts were interrupted as Draco backwinged sharply and slowed almost to a hover before setting gently down on the grass. The dragon shook his wings and folded them back then turned his head towards the approaching crowd.

"Are you sure these guys are on our side?" he asked doubtfully. "Or more to the point....do they know we're on their side?"

Lord Caradoc was at the head of the crowd, which appeared to consist of all the soldiers in the keep. All of whom had grabbed a weapon before running down the road to the water meadows. Most were clutching vicious looking pikes or long spears.

Owain sat high on Draco's shoulders and waved a hand. "Hey, easy there, just a moment!" he called. "Let me down Draco. I'll go and talk to them." 

Draco settled himself down onto his haunches and lowered himself to the ground to enable Owain to jump down. He stood in front of Draco and called out.

"My Lord! This is Draco......he wishes to join us in our fight." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Owain saw a small shape wriggle between two soldiers and step out to the front of the line. It was Brangwen. Seeing Owain look away from him Lord Caradoc turned and saw her and his expression darkened. 

"What in the name of all the Gods are you doing here girl?" he growled.

Brangwen froze, frantically trying to think of an excuse. "Um.......Emrys sent me my Lord, the healer......he asked me to.........to check if he was.........injured."

Caradoc's frown cleared. "Oh! Yes of course! Well.....you'd better go and check then."

She took a deep breath and walked over to where Owain stood. The dragon, she couldn't help noticing, had stood up again and had positioned himself just behind Owain, his great head, the long jaws slightly open revealing the enormous teeth, just above and behind him.

She walked up to Owain and smiled. 

He smiled back. "Was that true?" he asked quietly. "Did the healer send you?"

"No" she replied honestly. "It was the first reasonably believable excuse I thought of."

"So why did you come?" he asked.

Brangwen had spent most of her life in the fortress of Caer Gwytherin. She had spent long hours spinning and observing the noble ladies of the Lord's household and she had watched them flirting with the sons of neighbouring Lords many times. She knew that their first rule was never to let him know that you're interested. She ignored it.

"I wanted to see you again" she said bluntly, throwing caution to the winds. After all, if he isn't interested I'd rather know now, she thought. "When you didn't come back....well. Everyone assumed you were dead, but somehow......I knew you weren't."

"I probably would have been if it hadn't been for Draco" he said, turning his head to look up at the dragon. "I'd be stranded out there, alone, without a horse or provisions, at the mercy of the next raiding party."

Brangwen looked up at Draco and he lowered his head towards her. She reached up a hand and he lowered his head further until she could pat the scaly ridge above his eye. "Then I owe you my thanks" she said. "Thank you Draco, for taking care of him".

Her fingers found a patch of skin above the eye ridge and began to scratch it gently. Draco made a rumbling purr and pushed his head closer. "You like that?" she asked with a smile. She scratched for a little longer and then turned back to Owain.

"Well, were you injured? I'd better ask...."

He reached up and felt the back of his head. "Well.....I was knocked out, a blow to the head...." he held out his hand to her showing the dried blood on his fingers.

Wake up you fool! She thought. How could you have forgotten that!

"Let me see that! Kneel down here" she pointed at her feet and Owain obediently knelt down in front of her, happily taking in the view of her full breasts spilling out of the old blouse she had received from Lady Brianna which was, in truth, a little too small. She leaned forward and slid her hands into his thick dark hair, feeling gently at his scalp but with half her attention on his warm breath on her skin. Owain too was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. Her soft breast was now pressed against his cheek and he was beginning to feel a slight stirring in his breeches when his attention was abruptly snatched away. 

"Ow!"

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

"Yes! It hurts!"

"I'm not surprised! There's a lump the size of a hen's egg here. You're lucky it didn't crack your skull open! We'd better get you up to the barracks so I can clean it up."

She stepped back and Owain stood up, slightly reluctantly, to see that Lord Caradoc and his men had all moved forward. Evidently encouraged by the sight of the girl petting the dragon, they had lowered their spears and stood around murmuring to each other in amazement. Caradoc stood in front of Owain with his hands on his hips.

"So what do you think this creature can do for us? Can he be trained to be of use to the army do you think? What can he do?" he asked.

Draco pushed his head towards him. "Well he's not deaf for a start!" he said.

Brangwen bit her lip. She knew that laughing at Lord Caradoc and his warband would be a very bad idea, but the sight of them all stepping back in unison was so funny she had to turn away for a moment so that he wouldn't see her face.

"It can talk!" said Caradoc in amazement.

"Of course he can talk!" said Owain angrily. "Do you think I persuaded him to bring me back here through sheer force of personality! He offered to help me, of his own free will, just as he's offered to help us."

He turned back to Draco. "This is no beast of burden, to be trained my Lord! This is an intelligent creature with a mind of his own and probably more knowledge of the world than you have yourself!"

"Almost certainly!" growled Draco.

Caradoc's eyes narrowed at the insult. "So......how do you imagine that your noble friend here will be able to help us?" he asked.

"He's hunted these barbarians for years" explained Owain. "Their horses flee from him in terror. But that's not the most important thing. On our way back here I realised something. Once I got used to being so high up I could see for miles. We covered in a few hours a distance it would take a man on horseback a day to ride. And there were no obstacles either. Plains, forest, rivers all passed far below us." 

He reached up and patted Draco's muzzle. "With Draco's help we can run regular patrols along the borderlands. We'll be able to see the raiders before they cross onto the plains and deal with them long before they can become a danger to our people."

Lord Caradoc was a proud man, but he was also an experienced soldier and a good leader. Owain could see that he immediately saw the advantage of his suggestion. He looked up at Draco. "You would do this for us?" he asked.

"I would" rumbled Draco. "I have reason to hate them as much as you."

He lowered his head to Owain. "I can still eat some of them.....right?" he said in a whisper that could be heard on the other side of the field.

"My Lord Draco" answered Caradoc. "If you will help us you will be welcome to as many of them as you like!"

"Done then!" said Draco.

Lord Caradoc put a hand on Owain's shoulder. "You shall have a place here for as long as you want it Owain." He turned to his men. "Alright.....back to the Keep. There's work to do."

"I'll follow you in a moment my Lord" said Owain.

He watched the crowd move off and then turned back to Draco. "What about you?" he asked.

Draco lowered his great bulk to the grass and stretched out in the sun. "Oh I'll just stay here for now! The sun is nice and warm.....you go and get that head seen to son. And maybe your girl can see to the rest of you at the same time!"

Owain had turned to go but at this comment he turned back. "Whatever do you mean by that!" he asked.

Draco opened an eye and regarded him lazily. "Well, you like her don't you?" he asked.

"Well......yes. But I've hardly spoken to her. She might not be interested in me at all!"

Draco's eyes opened wider in surprise. "Of course she is! Why do you think she came rushing down here? Did you see any other females in that group? No!"

"She's a healer!" said Owain defensively. "She came to check that I was okay!"

Draco snorted. "She made that up as an excuse for your Lord Caradoc! She admitted it. Have you forgotten?"

Owain realised that she had. "Well......she might have just been curious?"

Draco sighed and laid his head down on the grass. "Humans! I sometimes wonder how your species has survived so long. It's easier with dragons, we can smell when a female is ready to mate, and she is believe me! She wants you just as much as you want her!"

Owain was shocked, but exhilarated at the same time. He lowered his voice and looked around for a moment. "Really?" he whispered. "You can tell that?"

Draco raised his head and nudged Owain in the chest almost knocking him over. "Don't hang around here asking daft questions! Get up there and find out! At the very least you'll get another look at those breasts while she's tending to your head......"

Owain smacked him on the muzzle without thinking. "Don't you speak of her like that!" he said angrily.

Draco chuckled to himself. "You have got it bad son! I meant no disrespect. She's a lovely girl. Now go!"

Owain grinned at him and then turned back towards the Keep. When he was halfway across the field Draco noticed him start to run and smiled to himself.


	25. Chapter 25

Owain caught up with Lord Caradoc at the gates and put a hand on his arm.

"I must ask you about Gerreint my Lord. I didn't know him for very long but I considered him to be a friend. I should like to pay my respects, if you'd tell me where his body lies?"

Caradoc looked surprised. "Why, he's not dead! In fact Emrys assures me that he'll probably recover."

Now it was Owain's turn to look surprised. "But.......he took a sword thrust in the side, I saw it! I didn't think he could have survived!"

"He's a hard man" said Caradoc with a grin. "Emrys will take you to him, but you need to get that head wound cleaned first."

Caradoc directed him to the Great Hall where the healer was checking on the wounded.

"He's been taking this mixture" he explained, holding up a small flask containing a golden liquid, He's over there at the end" he pointed to a cot that had been set up near the hearth where Gerreint was lying. Much to Owain's surprise he saw that his skin had the pink flush of health to it, rather than the greyish colour he was used to seeing on dying men. 

"What is that stuff?" asked Owain curiously. "It must have some powerful herbs in it!"

The healer glanced over to where Brangwen sat helping Gerreint to sip at the golden liquid. "It's something Brangwen created" he said. "you'd best ask her." He lowered his voice. "I understand she got the idea from some book at the Temple of the Moon......."

Owain smiled to himself as he walked over to Gerreint's cot. The Fort's healer sounded highly suspicious of anything gleaned from books. He sat down on the other side of the wounded man, noticing that his eyelids were already drooping. 

"That's powerful stuff" he said quietly. "I can't imagine falling asleep with an injury like that! It must really dull the pain."

"I make it from mead and the seeds of the red flower that grows in the high meadows" explained Brangwen. "It gives relief from pain but you can't give it to a man for too long or he comes to crave it. Then, when you tell them they can't have any more, they go crazy and act like madmen! But he needs to sleep so that his body can heal itself."

Owain thought of his mother tossing in her fever. "The healer said you got this information from the Temple of the Moon? If they know then why don't they use it?"

"I borrowed the book from the High Priestess, but I doubt anyone had ever read it!" answered Brangwen dismissively, puling the blanket up to cover Gerreint.

"You can read?" Owain sat back in surprise. He'd travelled all over the land and had only ever met half a dozen men who could read.

Brangwen looked up. Would he approve of this she wondered. Everyone else seemed to think she was mad! "Well........I asked Lord Caradoc's scribe to teach me. He didn't seem to mind" she said, watching him carefully for any signs of displeasure. Rather to her surprise he seemed fascinated by this new found talent.

"Can you write as well then?" he asked.

"Well......yes. I......" she paused, wondering if he would be bored by her small ambitions. She decided that she didn't care.... "I've been writing down information that I've got from the healer and things like the recipe for this pain relief draught. Our healer thinks that all he needs to know is what he learned from his predecessor and that's what he teaches to his apprentice, but there must be so much information that's lost!"

She leaned forward eagerly, strands of her glossy hair escaping from the cloth cap and falling around her face, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "What if a healer is killed in an accident? Or dies of some disease before he or she can pass on that knowledge? Surely it must be better for it to be written down?"

Owain had never actually thought about this before but the sight of her excited smile dazzled him. He wanted nothing more than to keep her talking to him. "Why yes!" he agreed. "Then anyone who could read it could access the information, not just the person who'd been taught."

He thought about this for a moment. "Perhaps that's why they don't like the idea? Knowledge is power you know."

Brangwyn sniffed. "No one who really cared about healing would think that way.....would they?"

Owain smiled to himself. She was so sweet, a little naive maybe, but then she'd probably never left this place. He had travelled all over the Kingdom and had met many people who thought that way. He had met men who would happily watch others die if they could see some advantage in it.

She stood up and reached for a kettle of hot water. "Come over here and let me clean that wound for you."

Owain sat on the edge of Gerreint's cot as Brangwen carefully cleaned the blood out of his thick, shoulder length hair. She was glad to see that the wound wasn't deep and would heal cleanly in a day or two. He sat quietly, relishing the feeling of her soft hands in his hair, trying to think of some reason to keep seeing her. Somehow spending his time in the barracks playing dice with other soldiers and telling bawdy tales didn't appeal as much as it used to. Gradually as she worked on his wound, an idea came to him. 

"Brangwen, could you teach me?" he asked.

"Teach you what?" she asked absently, concentrating on her work.

"Teach me to read?"

He felt the rhythmic motion of her fingers suddenly stop and felt a pang of disappointment.

"Why would you want to learn to read?" she asked curiously.

"So that I have a reason to be with you" thought Owain. "Well....." he said "if I'm going to be consorting with the nobility now, perhaps I should be able to read? If I'm to be present at Lord Caradoc's councils then it might help me don't you think?"

"Very few of the nobles can read themselves!" she said with a smile. "They have scribes for that."

Owain stood up and turned to look down into those grey eyes that had haunted him for the last few days. "Then perhaps I should recruit you as my scribe?"

Brangwen suddenly realised that she was staring back at him and lowered her eyes modestly. "Well.....I could try and teach you if you'd like? But where, there's so much going on the hall."

"We certainly couldn't use my place in the barracks" said Owain. "I'd never hear the end of it! The other men would just tease me unmercifully!"

"We could use my chamber?" suggested Brangwen, tentatively. "It's up at the top of the tower, no-one else ever goes up there."

"I couldn't come to your chamber!" said Owain sounding shocked. "If anyone found out........I wouldn't wish to compromise your virtue."

Brangwen laughed. "Really? I'm no noble lady Owain. No-one cares about my virtue!"

"I do!" said Owain, quietly.

Brangwen stared back up at him. He was perfectly serious! She found that she didn't quite know how to react to this. No-one had ever treated her like a lady before. She glanced around and suddenly noticed that they were being observed. Two or three of the young ladies of Lord Caradoc's household were clustered around the door to the barracks. One, in particular was watching Owain with a teasing smile.

Brangwen sighed. She should have known better than to hope to keep such a handsome young man to herself. "It looks like Lady Solla is waiting to have a word with you" she said.

"Then I'm afraid Lady Solla can continue to wait!" he replied. "I've spend years fighting in the warbands of some Lord or other and I've met hundreds of Ladies like her. Until now they have all, without exception, treated me as though I wasn't good enough to lick the mud from their dainty little shoes. Now, suddenly Lord Caradoc takes me seriously, and it's as though I'm a different person, on a whole different level. Well......I'm not. I'm just the same battered, scarred mercenary that I was before." He took Brangwen's hand. "I wanted to get to know you better from the moment I saw you, and I still do."


	26. Chapter 26

"So are you actually learning anything?" asked Draco with a cynical little smile. "Or do you find other activities to occupy your time?"

Owain was lying on his back in the grass by the river, a spot which Draco appeared to have made his own. "Well. I've only had one lesson so far and.........wait a minute!" he sat up sharply. "What do you mean 'other activities'? Are you insinuating........"

"I'm not insinuating anything! I'm just asking!" said Draco calmly.

"Whatever Brangwen and I get up to is none of your business!" he snapped.

"Oho! So you do get up to something?"

Owain sighed. "I must admit I found it hard to concentrate on the letters."

Draco lowered his head to the ground and Owain leant back against his outstretched foreleg. "It's not as if I haven't known women before......but I've never felt this way about any of them."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Giving some willing girl a tumble in the straw in the stable of a Roadside Inn is hardly the same thing now is it?" he said gently. "You're in love Owain my friend, you might as well admit it."

"Do you really think she cares for me?" he asked.

"Is she giving anyone else reading lessons?" asked Draco.

"Well of course not!" said Owain indignantly.

"And what does that tell you?"

"That she wants me to learn to read?"

"Oh come on Owain! She's no noble lady with nothing to do but look pretty all day. She must have plenty of things she could, or should, be doing. If she's spending her time with you it's because she wants to." He turned his long neck and nudged Owain on the shoulder. "Trust me my friend, she likes you.......a lot!"

"Lady Brianna doesn't seem to approve of her teaching me" said Owain thoughtfully. "We were sitting together at the long table in the great hall when she walked in. If looks could kill I think I'd have dropped dead on the spot! She's a good woman and she cares for her, I can't blame her really."

Draco shifted slightly and curled his long tail around Owain protectively. "She probably thinks that you have other, less noble, motives."

"Well she's right!" said Owain. "Although I'd never do anything to compromise Brangwen's reputation. I'd like nothing better than to ask for her hand."

"Then why don't you?" asked Draco reasonably. "Lord Caradoc thinks more highly of you now. He offered you a place here didn't he? He'd probably be delighted that you had something to tie you to his lands."

Owain leaned back against him and stare up at the clouds. "How can I?" he asked. "These raids are becoming more frequent. Soon there'll be all out war against these northerners, and you and I will be in the thick of it. What if something happens to me? If I don't come back? She would be betrothed to a dead man! People would consider her to be unlucky and who would take her then?"

"Perhaps she doesn't want anyone else....." said Draco softly. "You should give her the opportunity to choose, at least....."

Owain and Draco were due to go on their first patrol the next morning and so they spend the remainder of the evening discussing where they should try first. Owain had persuaded the armourers to create a harness which would enable him to get a more secure seat on Draco's shoulders. Draco had stood in the meadow grumbling while they measured him up, but Owain thought that he was secretly pleased by the gleaming black leather harness with the silver buckles that Lord Caradoc had ordered to be fitted when he heard of it.

They had decided to head northeast in the direction the previous rading party had taken and had set off soon after dawn. By midday they had reached the furthest point on their patrol and were ready to have a rest before turning back. They had flown over the plains to the north of Caer Gwytherin and into the foothills of the mountain range which covered the far northern horizon. 

"How about down there?" called Owain. "It looks fairly level and there's a stream."

Draco banked around in a tight circle and began to glide down to land beside the little stream. "Hop down Owain. I saw a herd of deer back there and I'm hungry."

Owain slid down from Draco's shoulders and patted his scaly foreleg. "Fine, you go and hunt, I'll build a fire and wait here for you."

He stepped back hurriedly as Draco spread his huge wings and leapt back into the air. Owain watched him for a moment and then turned away and began to collect wood for a fire.

By the time Draco returned with a young deer in his claws Owain had built a fire and settled himself comfortably beside it. Draco dropped the carcase on the edge of the clearing and turned his great head towards Owain. 

"Do you want some of this?" he asked. "Help yourself while I go and get a drink."

Owain pulled out a long hunting knife and cut a generous piece from the haunch of the deer and set it to roast over the fire while Draco waddled down to the stream to drink. It amused him to see how clumsy the dragon appeared on the ground. Draco was a creature of the air, when he flew Owain was always astonished that so massive a beast seemed so light and graceful.

He ate the roast venison with some bread from his pack and then leaned back against a rock and watched Draco devour the rest of the deer. He was a suprisingly delicate eater, tearing off the skin carefully before slicing the meat with his sharp fangs into bite sized pieces.

"Is that better?" he asked as Draco licked the remains of the meat from the bones like a great cat.

"You might as well make yourself comfortable" he said sleepily. "I won't be able to fly for an hour or so...." He slumped down onto his stomach and turned his head to the fire.

"Do you normally hunt deer?" asked Owain.

"Mmm.....the ones in the mountains are thinner and stringier. What I really like is a nice fat cow" he murmured. "Occasionally one will stray away from a farmer's field and I can snag it. I always feel a little guilty though....."

"Perhaps Lord Caradoc can provide you with a couple when we get back" said Owain.

Draco lifted his head. "Caradoc has cattle? I didn't see him as a farmer!"

Owain laughed. "Don't be silly. He doesn't raise them himself. The farmers give them to him as their tribute."

"Really? Why?" asked Draco curiously.

"Well.......it's the way things are done. The nobles are supported by the farmers who give them a tithe of everything they grow. It's the law!"

"Oh! Now I understand......the famers are starving because they have to give a proportion of their crops to their Lord!"

Owain was shocked at this. "It's not like that! The Lords protect us. They have always protected their people!"

"Protected you from what?" asked Draco.

Owain thought for a moment but before he could answer Draco answered for him. "From other Lords, that's what! If it weren't for them the farmers would manage perfectly well on their own."

Owain was silent. He hadn't actually thought about this before but now he saw that Draco was probably right. How many times had he fought in silly feuds between two rival Lords? How many times had he ridden past farms where the crops had been ruined by some Lord's warband riding through the fields with no thought of the damage they were doing? But on the other hand.........

"But they need us now! These raiding parties have to be stopped!"

Draco closed his eyes. "Hmm......you're right there. I guess you soldiers have to be good for something...." 

He opened an eye and regarded Owain who sat thoughtfully by the fire. "Yes....those years of training might finally be put to some good use."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to hot up a little. If this embarrasses you then perhaps you should skip the next couple of chapters......

Owain's reading lessons continued in a corner of the great hall until one day they were interrupted so many times that Brangwen threw down her book in disgust. 

"Look Owain! We need some peace if you're ever going to learn anything. Let's go up to my chamber."

Owain looked up. "Now, you know that's not a good idea" he said. All his instincts urged him to agree, to go up to the tower room and be alone with her, if only for a short time.

She reached over and put her hand over his. "It's all right, really. We'll wedge the door open if you like, we just need somewhere quiet....."

Owain looked up at her and his resistance crumbled. "Very well" he said, getting up and following her up the spiral stair to the chamber at the top of the tower. 

The room was tiny, with barely enough room for Brangwen's narrow bed and a storage chest. Owain sat on the wide window ledge and looked out over the walls of the fortress and the small town down to the water meadow where Draco lay sunning himself beside the river. Half a dozen small boys from the town had crept as close as they dared and were now apparently daring each other to go and touch his tail which was twitching in his sleep like that of a dreaming cat.

Owain smiled to himself as Brangwen put the books down on the chest and turned to him. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

Owain laughed. "Some lads are trying to creep up on Draco, look!"

She came to the window and looked out to see one of the boys, braver than the rest, creep towards the apparently sleeping dragon. Just as he got within a foot or so Draco lazily opened one eye and stared at him. The child froze as Draco turned his head towards him and raised one eye ridge questioningly. The lad backed away carefully and then looked around to see his comrades already running back towards the road. Draco gave a tiny cough and a sliver of flame about a foot long scorched the grass under his nostrils as the boy took off after his friends.

"I'm sure he'd never hurt them..." said Owain, turning around just as Brangwen stepped closer, causing her to stumble slightly. He reached out to catch her and suddenly she was in his arms. She was steady on her feet now and he knew he should let go but somehow he just couldn't bring himself to do it. She looked up at him with those big grey eyes and he was lost. He leaned down and kissed her.

Brangwen felt her heart skip a beat. She had kissed a few young men in the corner of the stable yard before now but she had never been kissed like this before.

Owain pulled back, seemingly shocked by what he had done but Brangwen was tingling with feelings she had never felt before. Her body ached, begging for him to touch her, to take her in his arms and kiss her again and then, almost as though he had heard her thoughts, he let out a low moan, pulled her back into his arms and his mouth found hers. She melted against him and relaxed, letting his tongue slide gently between her lips. Just as she felt she might faint Owain's mouth moved down to her neck, the movement of his lips raising the hair all over her body, and his hand eased the top of her blouse down over her shoulders to reveal her full breasts. Now his mouth had new territory to explore and she felt a shock run through her as his tongue licked gently over her nipple.

Suddenly he pulled back and held her away from him, his hands grasping her bare shoulders.

"I.....I'm sorry!" he gasped. "I shouldn't have done that, I......"

"Yes.....you should!" breathed Brangwen. "I want you to!"

"No Brangwen! Really, I shouldn't!"

Brangwen stepped back a little. What did he mean? Did he not want her after all? Or worse......did he want her but thought that he could do better now? It couldn't be that surely, Lady Solla had made her interest in him obvious and he had always been merely polite to her.

"Listen Brangwen" he said taking both her hands in his. "I......I can't do this, not now. We're on the brink of war and I'm a soldier. With Draco I'll be at the head of the army. You really don't want to be tied to a soldier, what if something happens to me?"

Brangwen's grip on his hands tightened. "Exactly!" she whispered. "What if something happens to you and I've never..... Oh Owain, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life before! If this war is to take you away from me then I want to have known you.....properly..." she blushed hotly and looked down, embarrassed.

Owain stared at her, open-mouthed. "I want you too...." he said. "I want to ask Lord Caradoc for your hand but....."

Brangwen looked up, hope brightening her soft grey eyes. "But what? I've no family, there's no one else to consider....."

"Only you Brangwen" he whispered softly. "What would happen to you if we were betrothed and I didn't return?"

"I don't want to think about that!" she said fiercely.

"But you must!" Owain held her hands and drew her closer. "You must know that other men would consider you bad luck if your betrothed were to be killed. You might never get another offer."

She gazed up at him. "I don't want another offer Owain, I only want you!"

"Then I'll ask him tonight...." He kissed her again. This time his kiss was different, more demanding, more urgent. He drew her bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at it gently with his teeth, his hand slipping around to her back.

"Later........tonight" she whispered, stepping closer.


	28. Chapter 28

Draco's assertion that Lord Caradoc would be eager to have Owain tied to his lands by marriage proved to be quite correct. He was delighted when Owain, plucking up his courage, asked him to grant him Brangwen as his wife.

"Of course my boy!" he cried enthusiastically. Then he paused. "I take it that she'll accept you? She's a young woman who knows her own mind that one!"

Owain smiled to himself. "Oh yes sir! I'm sure she will."

"Excellent!" said Caradoc, slapping him on the back. "Well.....you'll appreciate that she's a foundling, not one of the family, but my wife's very fond of her so I'm sure we can put on a good celebration for you at least, I'll get a priest from the temple to perform the ceremony.....and I'll arrange for a bigger chamber in the main tower for you."

Gerreint was delighted to hear about the forthcoming marriage and had recovered sufficiently to be able to walk, He was enormously grateful to Brangwen for her care of him and he insisted on standing as companion to Owain.

"You must have someone! Someone to get you drunk, hold you up through the ceremony and tuck you into bed with your bride! And if you're too drunk to manage it, I'll have to step in and help you out!"

Owain's eyes narrowed. "I'm sure I can manage without any help from you thanks!" 

"Depends how much mead you've drunk!" laughed Gerreint. He put a hand to his side where, Owain knew, his wound was still carefully bandaged. I think I'm fit enough to manage it.....thanks to your betrothed!"

"That will not be necessary!" said Owain with a smile as he slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get a drink to celebrate."

Neither Owain nor Brangwen had any family in the area to invite and they saw no reason to wait so the wedding was arranged for the following week. Caradoc was as good as his word and arranged for a priest for the ceremony and a larger chamber for the new couple.

The ladies rushed around offering help to Brangwen but she really didn't need it. At the very bottom of the large wooden strongbox in her chamber, carefully wrapped and scattered with herbs to discourage the moths, were the pieces of a wedding shirt she had made many years ago as a young girl for her future husband, without ever thinking that she would find a use for it. She drew out the pieces and realised that she would have to let in extra panels to make it big enough to fit Owain's muscular frame. There was a mass of delicate embroidery around the neck and the cuffs with Lord Caradoc's emblem of a striking falcon on the yokes.

Owain was astonished when she showed it to him. "So who did you make this for?" he asked curiously.

"Oh it wasn't for anyone particular" she explained hurriedly. "Lady Brianna insisted that we practice our embroidery and so we all made them. The other girls all have marriages arranged for them of course but I never thought anyone would wear this....."

Owain ran his fingers over the embroidered vine leaves curling around the neckline and the two perfect little falcons on the shoulders. "I shall be proud to wear it!" he said with a smile.

The day of her wedding passed in a blur. Brangwen spent the morning being fussed over by Lady Brianna and her daughters. She had no gold or jewels and so she wound wild flowers into her long black hair instead. Her dress was borrowed from one of the other ladies and you could easily see where the hem had been let down although it was still a little too short, but Owain still thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.

He had managed to stay sober despite the best efforts of Gerreint and his troop. And now he stood in the courtyard before the elderly priest with Gerreint behind him as Brangwen walked up and stood at his side. The courtyard was full and he noticed a number of people glance apprehensively up at the top of the guard tower where Draco had settled, his long tail curling around the stonework.

He could barely take his eyes from her long enough to listen to the priest's questions and to "swear to care for this woman from this day to the end of my days."

Brangwen swore the same oath and then they were both swept into the great hall for the feast. 

Lord Caradoc's money had been well spent as everyone else ate and drank until they could manage no more, but neither Owain, nor Brangwen ate much and it seemed that no time had passed before the crowd of guests were raucously encouraging Owain to bed his new bride. Brangwen left the feast first and Lady Solla accompanied her to the large chamber Lord Caradoc had allocated to them. It was easily three times the size of Brangwen's little room and contained a large comfortable looking bed.

Lady Solla smiled encouragingly at her as she left. "You'll be fine, he's a good man" she said as she slipped out, pausing to smile at Owain and Gerreint who were talking on the landing outside.

Gerreint patted him on the shoulder. "Here you go!" he handed Owain a coarse linen sheet. "I'll wait outside...."

Brangwen waited until Owain had closed the door. "What's that for?" she asked curiously. "We already have sheets on the bed."

Owain looked down at his feet, a little embarrassed. "Well, it's for.....the proof.....afterwards....."

"Oh!" Brangwen suddenly realised what he meant. Owain would have to provide the bloodstained sheet as evidence of his prowess......and her virginity.

"Don't worry about it" he said. "I'll deal with that. Let me help you?"

He ran his hands over her shoulders and kissed her gently. His earthy masculine scent washed over her as she felt his hands reaching behind her to unlace the bodice. She began to feel slightly light headed and she could feel the heat of his body against her as she slipped out of the borrowed dress and placed it carefully on top of the chest before climbing onto the bed and kneeling shyly, naked, in front of him.

Owain felt a sudden surge of lust as he looked at her. He had spent many nights alone wondering what her body looked like and now his eyes ran over her, drinking in the milk white skin and the full breasts with their rosy tips, the slim waist and rounded curve of her hips and buttocks. He needed to feel himself buried deep inside her, needed to hear her moan and feel her body arch below him as he brought her to the edge.

He got a grip on himself with an effort and removed the wedding shirt, putting it carefully aside on the chest.

Brangwen reached forward hesitantly and her soft fingers traced a long white scar which ran from his right shoulder down through the dark hair on his chest to his belly.

"I did warn you that I was a little scarred" he said softly as she smiled up at him and began to unlace his trousers. He moved forward and knelt on the bed the motion causing his erection to slip out into her waiting hand. He wriggled out of the trousers as Brangwen moved her hand gently over him, feeling how hot and rigid he was. She had no experience of this, all she had to go on was what she had heard from the other ladies and no amount of whispering in corners had prepared her for this. He was huge.....and so hard! She gulped at the thought of this inside her.

She felt Owain's hand trail down her stomach and slip between her legs, exploring her folds with his fingers, finding her slick and wet with arousal.

Brangwen sighed at his touch. She had touched herself before, out of curiosity at first, and then more when she discovered how good it felt. Owain's strong fingers were larger than hers, but gentle and the feeling was quite different.

Owain prayed silently to all the gods that he would last more than about thirty seconds and not cause Brangwen too much pain, maybe even give her some pleasure. He reached up and cupped her chin in his hand. 

"I love you" he breathed.

He positioned himself between her spread legs and took his aching manhood in his hand, stroking it gently over her slick folds. Her eyes widened at the size of it but it felt wonderful and she gave a little moan of encouragement. Owain responded instantly, easing himself inside her very slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, his teeth gritted with the strain.

Brangwen lay back thinking, this isn't so bad...... then Owain reached her maidenhead and knew he would have to use more force. He pushed harder and felt the resistance give way, then suddenly he was fully buried inside her tight, wet walls. It felt incredible and his hunger for her threatened to overwhelm him.

Brangwen had promised herself that she wouldn't cry but she was unable to suppress a faint whimper of pain and Owain knew immediately that he had hurt her and felt guilty.

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, hoping she wouldn't say yes as he wasn't entirely sure that he could.

"Just keep still....." she gasped.

Owain remained motionless, patiently waiting, willing his body to remain still. "Try and relax sweetheart" he murmured.

"Okay....." she whispered shakily and he began to move within her, very slowly and gently. With each careful thrust Brangwen's discomfort grew less until she began to enjoy the feeling. She raised her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist as each delicious thrust felt better than the last and she began to dissolve into a pleasure she hadn't expected, not this first time.

Owain struggled to keep his breathing smooth and even. Now that he recognised that her discomfort was gone and she was enjoying it he was determined that his new wife should have her pleasure first although the effort of holding back was almost too much for him. Then she gave another moan..."Oh please....." as she began to writhe beneath him, her toes curling as she found an exquisite release.

Owain was only seconds behind her, hearing her cry out in passion as her flesh gripped and squeezed him was just too much for him and he reached his own climax with a gasping moan of his own.


	29. Chapter 29

Owain lay beside his new wife, spent and breathing heavily. 

"Are you alright darling?" he asked. "I hated to hurt you but......."

Brangwen smiled at him and reached over to stroke his cheek. "I'm fine, really. I'm not completely naive you know. I knew that it would hurt, the first time at least, but it was much better than I expected. I knew I could trust you. Especially after seeing the way you were determined to save that farmer's wife from rape, even though Gerreint thought it would be too dangerous!"

Owain smiled and then suddenly his face changed. "I know the farmer's wife has told the tale around the town but we never mentioned that part and no-one else knew but Gerreint and me. How could you know that?" he asked, puzzled. "Oh wait, Gerreint told you?"

Brangwen could have kicked herself. What had possessed her to mention that? She wished fervently that she could let him believe that but she knew that if he asked Gerreint he would find out the truth. That he had not spoken to her of the incident at all.

She lay for a moment trying frantically to think of an explanation but nothing came to mind and besides, she hated the thought of lying to him. She made up her mind to trust him and curling up closer she whispered "I want you to promise me something Owain."

"Anything!" he answered immediately. 

"No, I'm serious Owain. I want you to promise me that you'll never repeat what I'm going to tell you......to anyone."

Owain raised himself up on his elbow and looked down at her uncertainly. "Very well. I promise."

"I saw you in the fire" she said solemnly. 

Owain stared at her blankly. "In the fire?"

Brangwen sighed. "In a vision. I looked into the fire and I could see you, you and Gerreint and the rest of the troop. I saw that woman run out of the tent with that savage chasing after her. I saw what he was going to do and I heard you arguing with Gerreint about helping her........" she fell silent watching Owain's face.

"It's true......I promise you...." she said, a touch of desperation in her voice. "Please don't tell anyone Owain. They'd think it was witchcraft....."

Owain looked down at his wife and realised that she was perfectly serious. She was terrified that someone would find out. He struggled to keep the smile from his face. "That's nonsense Brangwen. You have a talent that's all" he said calmly.

"Wh.......what?" asked Brangwen. "You've heard of this before?"

"Certainly......my mother, she saw visions. But hers were of the future. You say you saw what I was doing at the time you were watching?"

"Yes...." Brangwen was stunned that Owain was so relaxed about her gift. "You don't think I'm a witch then?" she asked with a smile.

He reached down and brushed a wayward strand of hair from her cheek. "Well I don't know about that.....you've certainly bewitched me!"

"Please don't joke about this Owain. I've seen these visions all my life but I've never been able to tell anyone about them before. I've tried to forget about them but they keep coming to me....."

"You mustn't do that sweetheart, you have a rare talent, you should use it. You don't need to tell anyone about it. Can you do this at will? If you want to see someone can you just scry them out?"

"Yes......I have done that...." she admitted cautiously.

Owain's lip curled into a little smile. "I'd better make sure I behave myself then! I'll never know when you might be watching me!"

"Oh I'd never....." Brangwen shifted towards him and winced slightly.

Owain put out a hand to her. "Are you in pain?" he asked.

"Just a little sore.....but...." she looked down and saw a streak of blood on her pale thigh ".....it looks like you'll have some evidence."

Owain swung himself up off the bed and lifted her up, carefully pulling the folded sheet from beneath her hips. There was a red stain on the linen, not big enough to worry him but enough to convince the wedding guests that there was no question about Brangwen's virginity. He walked over to a bowl of hot water, scented with herbs, that had been set on the dresser and wiped himself clean with a washcloth, taking care to keep his back to the bed so that Brangwen could not see the blood on his manhood. He took another washcloth and soaked it in the water before handing it to her. 

"Here, I'll just take this out to Gerreint..." He pulled his pants back on and picked up the sheet, giving her some privacy to clean herself.

Gerreint was sitting on the landing floor with his back to the wall. "Everything okay?" he asked with a smile.

"Everything's fine!" said Owain, unable to suppress a grin. "Absolutely fine! Here...." he handed Gerreint the bloodstained sheet ".....take this and go enjoy yourself for the rest of the night!"

Gerreint grinned back. "You too!" he slapped Owain on the shoulder. "I know you'll be very happy and I for one am glad she's happy too. Emrys told me I'd probably have died from that wound if it weren't for her. I have a lot to thank her for so you make sure you treat her right!"

"Oh I will, don't you worry." Owain watched his friend head back down the stairs before turning to the closed door of the chamber.

When he got back she was sitting up wrapped in a blanket and before he could say a word she asked "Can we do it again?"

"Well......"

"Oh please Owain? I want to do it again.....right now!"

Hearing those words from his new bride was sufficient to make Owain instantly hard again. He slipped his pants off and climbed back up onto the bed beside her. He was determined to take his time and he began kissing her gently, first her lips then her neck and her breasts. He moved lower and kissed her stomach and each hip, then the dark curly hair between her thighs.

She smelt of the herbs she had used to scent the water. He nudged her legs apart and, before she could protest, he bent his head and gently caressed her opening with his tongue.

Brangwen gasped. She was a little embarrassed but it felt amazing, Owain's tongue worked against her as fast and light as the wings of a moth fluttering against a window. Within a minute or two she began to moan softly and slid her fingers into his hair. Owain gently slipped a finger inside her and was rewarded as she cried out his name. He got up onto his knees, hooked her legs around his waist and entered her swiftly. This time, as far as he could tell, there was no pain.

He knew he wouldn't last long but that didn't matter this time as he moved harder and faster than before until they both came to a climax at almost the same moment.


	30. Chapter 30

Lord Caradoc was generous enough to allow Owain some time with his new bride but he also needed him to complete his missions scouting on the northern border. All too soon he was ordered to join Caradoc's war councils and began to head out on regular scouting trips.

True to his word he had brought up the question of feeding Draco. His reasoning was that, since Draco was working for the Lord's benefit he deserved payment every bit as much as his human soldiers. And instead of demanding payment in gold, all he required was a nice fat cow now and again! 

Caradoc was perfectly amenable to this arrangement. After all, he was getting an invaluable ally for a few cattle provided by his tenant farmers. However the local farmers were distinctly unhappy and so Owain suggested that they come up to the Keep to see him personally. He persuaded Maeve the farmer's wife and her two friends to join him and after hearing in painful detail what the barbarian raiders had done to her farm and her menfolk they changed their minds and were more than happy to help.

Throughout the summer Owain and Draco patrolled the border regularly, flying high ahead of the scouting parties sent out from Caer Gwytherin. That summer not a single farm was raided across Lord Caradoc's lands and refugees began to trickle in from the surrounding areas.

Brangwen remained at the fortress, spinning and weaving with the other ladies until one night she had a strange dream. She was curled up in the soft bed that Lord Caradoc had given them as a wedding gift and had just drifted off to sleep. In that half state between sleeping and waking she felt herself become lighter and rise up into the air. When she opened her eyes she found she was lying on the ground and looking up at a strange purple sky. She looked around and saw nothing but knee high grass waving gently in a light breeze as far as she could see. 

"Where on earth am I?" she asked herself.

"You are in the gatelands" came a voice from behind her.

Brangwen froze. The voice had sounded gentle, but still she turned carefully and looked around warily. Sitting in the long grass behind her was a woman. She was wearing a short, soft leather tunic and leggings. Her long silver hair hung to her shoulders and she watched Brangwen with a pair of the most piercing green eyes she had ever seen.

"Am I still asleep?" asked Brangwen doubtfully.

The woman smiled and her eyes lit up. "Why yes, of course you are!" she said. "I've been waiting for you."

Brangwen took a deep breath. If I'm asleep, then what harm could possibly come to me, she thought. She sat down before the strange woman. 

"So......who are you, and why have you been waiting for me?" she asked curiously.

"My name is Linden and I have been waiting because you need my help!"

Brangwen laughed. "You know nothing about me. Why would I need your help?"

The strange woman smiled back calmly. "I know all I need to know about you Brangwen. You have power......I can feel it. I have been able to sense you for some time, but your power is raw, untrained.......dangerous, both to you and to those around you."

Brangwen was shocked. "Dangerous? How?"

The woman gestured around them. "Do you know where you are, or how you got here?" she asked.

Brangwen sighed. "Well, truthfully......no" she admitted. "You called this place the Gatelands. What does that mean?" 

"This place is a doorway to another plane, another level if you will. Those of us with Power can walk the planes, but it takes great strength and training and you have never had any training at all have you?"

"How could I? Who could possibly train me?" asked Brangwen helplessly. "No one even knows about my power.......well, except for Owain of course."

Linden blinked, surprised. "Who is Owain?" she asked.

"He's my husband" answered Brangwen with a touch of pride. "He knows about my power and he accepts it because he loves me."

"Then you are very fortunate!" said Linden with a smile.

"Could you help me?" asked Brangwen eagerly. "Where do you live? Could I travel to visit you?"

"I live far to the north in a city called Glyn Ceiriog. My people accept magic and I am their spirit talker. You could not visit me easily, it is much too far, but we can meet here while our bodies are sleeping."

"Owain rides as a scout for the army" said Brangwen thoughtfully. "Perhaps he could find your city."

Linden smiled. "A horseman would take many moons to ride that distance."

"My husband does not ride a horse" said Brangwen. "He rides a dragon."

Linden stared at her, unmoving. "That cannot be true!" she said. "Dragons are powerful creatures with magic of their own. They cannot be captured and trained by humans........and yet I see that you believe this." She looked puzzled, as though she could not understand how Brangwen could honestly believe such a thing.

Brangwen laughed. "Draco wasn't captured!" she said. "I can't imagine anyone doing that! No.......he joined Owain of his own free will, to help him fight the northern barbarians......" she stopped suddenly, struck with a terrible thought. Could this woman be one of them? Could she be some kind of priestess.....what had she called herself? A spirit talker, to the savages......surely not?

"You speak of the Durga?" asked Linden. "Tall warriors, pale skinned and tattooed with charms and talismans plaited into their hair? They come from the far north and have been moving southwards for many generations. So far they have not troubled my people as our city is surrounded by strong walls and set in the centre of a lake, but they will .........

Suddenly Brangwen began to feel faint and her vision appeared to blur. "What's happening?" she asked, her voice betraying her sense of panic.

Linden reached forward and took her hand. "You are waking Brangwen, don't worry. But listen to me. Listen carefully. Think of me before you sleep and we will meet again but if I'm not here, don't trust anyone else. There are those who will try to lure you away, don't leave this place and follow them. Look behind you....."

Brangwen turned and saw a faint line in the grass. "That is your link to your physical body, the further you go the thinner it will become and if it breaks.......your soul will be trapped here."

Brangwen struggled to concentrate but Linden's face seemed to be fading as she watched. 

"Hey! Wake up sleepy!" Brangwen blinked and suddenly Owain was there, his hand on her shoulder, shaking her awake. He was looking down at her, concern in his bright blue eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You just had a bad dream darling." He put his arms around her, comforting her as she clung to him.

"No......no this was more than a dream" she whispered. "I met someone, someone with power."

"Brangwen, honey, what are you talking about?"

She sat up and thought for a moment. "I was asleep and yes, it seemed as though I was dreaming but it was so real! I met a woman. She told me her name was Linden and she came from a city far to the north. Do you know of such a city?" she asked.

"I've never heard of a city further north than here" said Owain. We're on the border here, there are only mountains to the north, or so I've always thought.......but Draco knows the mountains better than I do. He might know of this city?"

"We should ask him!" said Brangwen eagerly. "If he knows of it......if it exists, then my dream must have been real! How else could I have known of it?"

"What else did she tell you?" asked Owain curiously.

"She knew of the savages" she said. "She called them the Durga, she said they have been moving southwards for generations. She told me....." Brangwen stopped.

"Told you what? Brangwen! What did she tell you?"

"She told me that my power could be dangerous" said Brangwen quietly. "Both to me and to those around me. That I needed training. She said that if I strayed too far into the gatelands.....that my soul would be trapped there. I'm not sure.....she might have meant that I would lose my soul, or that I would die....."

"Then you're not going back!" said Owain firmly.

She reached out and caressed his cheek. "But I must Owain. I need to know what she has to teach me. It's too dangerous not to know what I am....what I can do, for me and for you and for......" she stopped. "This isn't how I wanted to tell you Owain but I think I'm with child."

Owain's worried expression cleared and he smiled. "Are you sure?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fairly sure."

His expression hardened again. "Then that's even more reason for you to be careful. I can't go with you, can't protect you......."

She shifted forward into his open arms and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You're a warrior Owain. I know you want to protect me, especially now, but you can't. You stood up to a Dragon, befriended him, even persuaded him to join our cause. This is my path, I need to do this alone."

Owain hugged her fiercely to him. "Promise me you won't take any risks, not with our child..."

"I promise."


	31. Chapter 31

"Have you ever heard of this place, Glyn Ceiriog?" asked Brangwen.

She and Owain were sitting on the grass beside Draco who lay on his stomach, his long neck stretched out and his head resting on the ground.

"I don't know what humans call it but I do know of such a city. It's far to the north and west of here. Just where the mountains begin. There are great walls around a lake and the city is built on an island in the centre. The walls are built on a ridge of rock that surrounds the lake and many of the houses are build on wooden pilings in the shallow water around both the walls and the island. The island itself rises up to a hill with a ruined building on it, some kind of citadel......it looks very old."

"So you've seen this city?" asked Owain. "The one Brangwen dreamed of?"

"Well......the description sounds similar, although I've only seen it from a distance. I always tended to stay away from humans." He turned his head slightly to look at Owain. "I know nothing of the people who live there except that they are not particularly warlike. I was told that they trade with the peoples further west, on the grasslands. That's probably why you've never heard of them.

"How long would it take to get there?" asked Owain.

"Several days" answered Draco. "We'd have to camp out in the mountains. I couldn't fly that far all at once!"

"Isn't that dangerous?" asked Brangwen nervously.

Owain and Draco both turned to look at her.

"Well......I mean, aren't there lions and bears and things in the mountains? Or do they just tell that to children to frighten them?"

Draco's lip curled up in a complacent smile. "Well I have seen bears in the mountains" he admitted. "But not for long......they tend to run away!"

"Don't worry sweetheart" said Owain. "No predator will come near us." He rested a hand on the great dragon's horned head. "There are things out there that are big and dangerous, but there's nothing as big or as dangerous as he is!"

"What about other dragons?" she asked.

Owain's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Do you know, I'd never thought of that!"

There was a rumble as Draco chuckled to himself. "She's clever, this wife of yours!" he said. "And she's right as well! There are others........but they all know me and they wouldn't harm us."

"Do you think that this woman can teach you?" he asked.

"I don't want her going anywhere just at the moment!" said Owain firmly.

Draco pushed his head forward and nuzzled at Brangwen. "Hmm......I see!" he murmured. "You want to protect your hatchling!"

Owain's eyes widened. "You can tell? Am I the last to know these things?" he asked, crossly.

Draco chucked again. "I can scent the change in her but no human would be able to tell at this stage." He turned his head to Owain. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

"I need to do this Owain, you know that" said Brangwen as they walked back to the Fortress together. "But I'll wait. I don't want you to worry about me so I won't do anything without telling you, I promise."

Owain turned to look down at her. "I know this is important to you. I'll talk to Lord Caradoc. Draco and I can take a little trip north to do some exploring...."


	32. Chapter 32

It was a warm day towards the end of the summer season, the fields surrounding the city of Glyn Ceiriog were marshy, dotted with tiny streams and bogs, fed with warm water that flowed sluggishly out from the great lake within the city walls. There were several small villages further west but there was nothing to rival the size of Glyn Ceiriog. Linden, the spirit talker, sat cross legged on a slab of rock among the tumbled ruins of the citadel looking out over the lake. The late summer sun shone on the deep blue water at the base of the island and the greenish tinted water where the houses crowded together on pilings in the shallows. A flotilla of little rowing boats were tied up to the pilings so that people could move easily between the public buildings and the market square on the island and the town on the shore. In the shallowest part of the lake more pilings had been driven in two rows from the shore to the island and a narrow causeway built on top of them but most of the inhabitants preferred to travel by boat.

It had been nearly a full turn of the moon since she had seen the woman, Brangwen, in the gatelands and she was beginning to be concerned that she had not returned. She had no way of knowing that Brangwen had promised Owain that she wouldn't try to make contact until he and Draco returned from their trip to the mountains.

As she looked out over the lake she heard a shout from below. 

"What are you doing up there Linden?" 

She looked down and saw Nissa, her apprentice, looking up at her with her hands on her hips.

"I can feel something" she called. "Something powerful approaching from the south. There!" She pointed at what appeared to be a large bird flying strongly across the plains towards the marshes that guarded the southern approach to the city.

There was a rattle of small stones being dislodged and falling as Nissa climbed up and stood beside her, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun.

"Have I taught you nothing child?" asked Linden with a sigh. "You have other senses....use them!"

Nissa hurriedly sat down next to her and closed her eyes.

"Now relax and concentrate! What do you feel?"

"Strength......great strength and power......and.....fire?" The girl's eyes flew open and she gasped. "A dragon? It's a dragon! And It's coming here!"

She turned and stared at Linden in awe. "You summoned a dragon?"

Linden laughed. "Oh no child! Even I don't have the power to summon a dragon."

They sat silently watching as the dragon approached and, as it came nearer, others began to notice it too. Soon there was quite a crowd in the market square but, as Draco swept over the walls, they panicked and scattered leaving Linden and Nissa alone on the citadel.

Draco banked around and circled the citadel. "That'll be her!" he called to Owain. "She and her companion are the only ones who haven't run away!" He swept back with his great wings and landed neatly on the flat slabs where Linden and Nissa waited for them. Nissa's eyes were wide with fright but Linden walked forward boldly.

He lowered his great head and sniffed at her.

"This is the one" he said turning his long neck back to look at Owain. "I can smell the power on her......just like your wife!"

Owain slid down from the dragon's shoulders and approached the strange silver-haired woman. "You are Linden?" he asked. "The sorcerer who came to my wife in her dreams?"

"You must be Owain" she said. And you..." she looked up at the great dragon. "You must be Draco."

Owain's hand was on the hilt of the long, curved knife at his belt. "How do you know our names sorcerer?" he asked suspiciously.

Linden smiled. "Your wife, Brangwen, told me."

Owain relaxed a little and moved his hand a way from the knife. "It's true then?" he asked wonderingly. "You really did meet her?"

"I did. And I should like to meet her again"

"It's a long way for her to travel" said Owain warily. 

"I can teach her to walk the plains" said Linden softly. "She can be here in minutes by travelling that way. I can show her how to open a gateway to another plane and then find a place on that plane to open another gateway back."

"These 'plains', what are they?" asked Owain.

Linden smiled. "It's hard to explain to one who does not have the power but they represent another level of existence. Think of them as shortcuts."

"Are they dangerous?" he asked. 

"Power such as your wife has is always dangerous!" answered Linden.

"She's carrying my child" said Owain. "I will not allow her to do anything that might put her at risk!"

Linden smiled. "Yes.......I could sense him within her. Then I will come to her."

Owain felt a sense of relief wash over him. Then something else struck him. "Wait.....you said him? My son? I'm going to have a son?"


	33. Chapter 33

"A boy!" said Brangwen. "She said I was going to have a boy?"

"That's right!" answered Owain, grinning at her. "A son!"

Owain couldn't contain his excitement at the news. After all, didn't all men want a son to follow in their footsteps? He paused as it suddenly occurred to him that she might have preferred a daughter.

"Are you pleased?" he asked hesitantly. 

"Oh Owain, of course I am. I'd so hoped to be able to give you a son!"

Owain gave a little sigh of relief and smiled happily at her. "I'm so glad."

They were sitting on the bed in their chamber and Brangwen cuddled up against him and leaned her head on his shoulder. 

"So what was she like? What did you think of her?" she asked.

"She was........different" said Owain slowly. "Everyone else but her apprentice panicked and ran away when Draco flew in but she seemed quite calm. Almost as though she had been expecting us. She was strong and had an aura of power about her. I don't doubt that she was the same woman who came to you in your dream, the description matched but to be honest, I didn't really need it. I've fought many battles in my time but I have to admit that she frightened me more than any enemy warrior ever has!"

Brangwen was surprised. "Frightened you? Why?" she asked.

"Because........she has a power that I don't understand" answered Owain after a moment's thought. "Physical strength and skill with a sword......I can deal with that but she has a different kind of strength, something I have no defense against......"

"Just as well you have me to protect you then....." said Brangwen, leaning forward to kiss him. Owain's arms slipped around her as her soft mouth closed on his. "Mmm.......I'd better make sure I keep you close to me" he murmured.

As the summer receded and the weather became colder Owain and his fellow soldiers built a large barn like structure against the walls of the fortress with a large hearth and kept a fire going to keep Draco warm. He became sluggish in the cold weather and spent a lot of his time curled up in front of the fire dozing. Both Owain and Brangwen visited frequently to talk with him and keep him company.

"How do you usually spend the winter?" asked Brangwen one day.

"I would spent the winters in the mountains" said Draco sleepily. 

"But surely it's even colder up there isn't it?" she asked.

"I would find a fire mountain" he explained. "We spend the winter in the caverns inside the mountains. The fires of the earth keep us warm until spring."

"I spoke with Lord Caradoc yesterday" said Owain thoughtfully. "He's going to stop the patrols soon, it'll be too cold for any raiders to come south until the spring. Would you like to go north again and find somewhere to spend the winter?"

Draco opened an eye. "Would you mind?"

"Hey! I'd miss you.......we both would. But I'd rather you were somewhere warm and safe. I'd hate to think you were making yourself uncomfortable for our sake!"

"I'd come back in the spring, I promise. I'll miss you two as well but I have to admit that I would like to go" said Draco slowly. "You really wouldn't mind?"

"You've done so much for us already, we would never try to keep you here against your will, you know that!"

"Then I'll go tomorrow. " Draco raised his head and nudged Brangwen's stomach gently. "I'll be back in time for the birth of your hatchling."

The next morning the air was crisp with frost and ice coated the stones and yet everyone in the fortress was in the courtyard or lining the walls to watch Draco leave. Owain overheard some of the soldiers taking bets on whether or not he would return in the spring and was tempted to take them up on it. He was certain that Draco would keep his word and he would win the bet but he also suspected that Brangwen would disapprove if she found out! 

He and Brangwen had said their farewells already and had climbed to the top of the tower where Owain had helped Brangwen climb through a hatch onto the roof of the tower. They stood there hand in hand, Brangwen bundled up in furs, as Draco circled the tower and swept overhead. He roared a final farewell and then turned north. Owain and Brangwen stood watching until he was out of sight and then climbed back down.

It appeared that Draco had chosen the right time to leave as the next morning they woke to a silent world covered in a crisp layer of snow. Brangwen shivered and burrowed under the blankets and the heavy fur coverlet, snuggling up against the warmth of Owain's body.

"I think we should just stay in here!" she muttered.

Owain stuck out a tentative toe from under the covers and then whipped it back in again. He reached out and hooked his trousers and shirt off the chest beside the bed and pulled them under the covers. Brangwen giggled as he wriggled himself into his clothes but then gave a squeal as he jumped out of bed and a gust of cold air rushed in to replace him. He leaned over and kissed the tip of her nose, which was the only part of her that was visible.

"I'll go down to the hall and get a couple of bowls of hot porridge" he said, laughing at the muffled thanks that emerged from Brangwen's cosy nest. She remained curled up under the fur until she felt the bed shift as someone sat down on the edge.

"You're quiet this morning! I didn't hear you come back in" she murmured as she pushed the covers back and looked out.

To her considerable surprise a pair of brilliant green eyes looked back at her, framed by a sheet of silver hair.

"Linden!"

She sat up suddenly, pulling the covers around her. "What are you.......how did you get here?"

Brangwen glanced around the small chamber and noticed a faint lilac coloured mist drifting in the air which dissipated even as she watched it.

Linden smiled broadly, well pleased with her surprise. "Did your husband not tell you that I would come to you?" she asked.

"Well yes, he did say that but.........I thought you'd........I didn't expect you to just, appear!" said Brangwen, still floundering in shock.

Linden looked around her with some satisfaction. "At least I managed to get the right room! I was afraid I might step off the road into some unsuspecting Lord or Lady's chamber......"

Brangwen wrapped the fur coverlet around her and gathered her scattered wits. "So, did you get here by traveling across another....plane?" she asked. "Can you teach me to do that?"

"Yes, eventually. But you would have to do a lot of work first and we couldn't start until after you give birth. Traveling across the planes changes time and would affect the development of your baby."

Just then there was a creak and the chamber door was pushed open. "Here we are madam, breakfast........" Brangwen heard a thud as one of the earthenware bowls hit the rush matting covering the stone floor as Owain reached instinctively for his sword. Fortunately for Linden his hip was bare as his belt and sword hung from a hook on the wall.

"How in the name of all the Gods did you get in here?" he asked, shocked beyond belief that someone had entered their chamber without his knowledge.


	34. Chapter 34

"Was that my breakfast?" asked Brangwen, looking up at him steadily, hoping that her composure would reassure him that there was nothing to worry about.

"You can have this one!" said Owain shortly, putting the remaining bowl down on the chest without taking his eyes off Linden.

"You remember Linden?" she asked.

"Yes! I remember her being a sevenday's ride away by dragon! Not right here in our bedchamber!"

Linden raised an eyebrow. "I had hoped you'd be up by now. It was never my intention to interrupt anything......"

"She just came to visit me....."

"You mean just anyone could walk in here whenever they like?" asked Owain, clearly horrified.

"Gods no!" Linden laughed. "There are very few individuals in this world with a talent for what people call magic."

She shivered slightly and turned to the embers of the previous night's fire. She flicked a hand towards the cold coals and a flame appeared and took hold.

Owain's legs suddenly gave way and he sat down hard on the edge of the bed. "You......you lit that with magic?" he asked.

"I didn't light it at all" she explained. "I summoned a spirit of fire and asked it to light it for me. You met my apprentice Nissa? She has a talent, she can be trained to perform simple magic like this, but she could never learn to walk the planes."

Linden looked at Owain seriously. "I said that there are few people with magic......well there are even fewer with the kind of power your wife has. I know of only two other people who could even approach my own power but I believe that Brangwen might even surpass me one day."

Brangwen sat on the bed, bundled up in the fur coverlet and looked from one to the other. "Who........me? You really think so?" she asked nervously.

"I am sure of it" answered Linden. "You sought out your husband and watched him in the fire over a great distance with hardly any effort at all. You barely even knew what you were doing and for that reason you need me to help you, that is why you sought me out in the gatelands. Power like that cannot be suppressed. You can't simply ignore it as I'd wager you have tried. If you do not use it, develop it, master it, it will turn against you and drive you mad."

Brangwen leaned forward eagerly. "I want to learn, I do really. But if I had told anyone what I saw, what I could do, they'd think me mad already.......or worse......."

Linden smiled gently. "It must have been hard for you with no-one to help you. People always fear what they don't understand."

 

Owain was not entirely happy but as Brangwen's early lessons meant that she spent long hours in their chamber meditating, he was happy that she was, at least, in no immediate danger and, although Brangwen herself was frustrated by the lack of action, Linden assured him that the relaxation and meditation techniques could only be good for the baby and could even assist her to have an easier birth.

"I'm bored!" complained Brangwen, sitting cross legged on the bed in their chamber.

Owain looked up from where he was sitting, carefully working oil into the leather of his sword belt and scabbard.

"Well what else would you be doing in this weather?" he asked reasonably. "Spinning and gossiping with the ladies in the women's hall? It's far too cold to do anything outside and besides, the courtyard's just a sheet of ice......you could fall and injure yourself, or him." He patted her protuberant stomach in a proprietorial manner.

She smiled. "Yes I know. I'll be careful I promise, but I need to get some fresh air."

Owain put the sword belt down and stood up, holding out his hand to his wife. "Okay come on. I'll come with you."

He helped her bundle herself up in furs and carefully escorted her down the steep spiral staircase and out into the courtyard. 

Throughout the winter they remained in the fortress, Owain cleaning and polishing his equipment, including Draco's harness, until it shone. Brangwen performing the meditation exercises Linden had taught her. At first they had seemed simply frustrating, but lately she had begun to feel much calmer and more in control, not only of her body but also of her power.

She and Owain were lying in each other's arms one cold morning when she she felt the first movement within her swollen belly. She took Owain's hand and placed it where he could feel his son's first kick.

She looked up and saw his brilliant blue eyes looking down at her, wide with surprise. "I felt it! I felt him kick!" He gathered her up in his arms and kissed her tenderly. "Nothing in all the world is more precious to me than you two" he murmured. "You know I'd do anything to keep you safe...."

 

By the time winter had loosened its icy grip on the fortress Brangwen was almost ready to give birth and Owain was checking the sky every day, looking for Draco's return.

"There's no need for that Owain, I've told you.....I'll know when he's coming!" said Brangwen, leaning back on a padded chair in the great hall, trying to make herself comfortable. 

"It won't be long now" said Lady Brianna, sitting beside her peacefully sewing. 

"Draco?" asked Brangwen, surprised. 

Lady Brianna laughed. "Oh no child! I meant the baby!" she said.

"Oh, I certainly hope so!" said Brangwen, shifting uncomfortably. "I was so frightened at the thought of it before but now......I just want it to be over with!"

Lady Brianna smiled at her. "That's the gift of the Goddess child. She makes it so uncomfortable at the end that you forget the fear and look forward to the birth instead!"

Brangwen giggled. "That's certainly true.....oh!" she sat up suddenly and Lady Brianna put down her sewing.

"Are you alright dear? Have the pains started?" she asked anxiously.

"No it's not the baby" Brangwen sat back in the chair, her eyes closed, a smile spreading across her face at a vision only she could see. "It's Draco! He's on his way!"

It was several hours later that she heard Owain call from the watchtower. He helped her out into the courtyard and she looked up in time to see the familiar shape of the great dragon soar overhead. Together they walked down to the water meadows to meet him. 

Rather to her surprise they had only gone a few hundred yards down the road out of the town when they saw Draco coming to meet them. He lowered his huge head to Brangwen. 

"Looks like I'm just in time!" he said. "You shouldn't be walking outside now. You need to be safe indoors."

They walked slowly back towards the main gates, Draco padding behind them. Beside the gate he turned off towards the barn Owain and his friends had built for him. 

"I've flown a long way today. I need to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow Owain...."

Owain reached up and patted his neck. "Of course. You go and rest my friend. I'll take Brangwen back indoors."

Brangwen said goodbye to Draco and took Owain's arm. In truth she wanted nothing more than to lie down in her comfortable bed as she felt rather odd. As they walked back through the gates she felt a sudden pain and staggered against Owain.

"What is it? Are you alright?" he asked.

"I think.....help me get back to the hall Owain. I think it's the baby.....it's time."

Owain picked her up in his arms and ran across the courtyard and up the steps into the hall, calling for help. In moments half a dozen of the ladies had appeared and helped Brangwen to walk into one of the ground floor chambers. Owain followed her until Lady Brianna stopped him at the door.

"We'll take care of her now" she said firmly. "This is no place for you".

"But......I could......hold her hand?" asked Owain desperately.

"No!"

"There must be something I can do?" he asked.

Lady Brianna held up a hand. "You've done your part young man! Now go away and let us help her do hers."

The hall was beginning to fill up with soldiers drawn by the commotion and Gerreint pushed his way to the front and laid a hand on Owain's arm. "Come on Owain. A nice game of dice.....that's what you need. I'll play with you. A few friendly wagers, it'll be good."

"I can't possibly concentrate on a dice game!" said Owain, horrified.

"I didn't say it would be good for you!"

Owain stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. "Okay! Let's go. I'm obviously not wanted around here."

Gerreint's expression softened. "Don't worry, they'll look after her. There's nothing more you can do." He gently steered Owain out of the hall and into the barracks.


	35. Chapter 35

Several hours and many dice games later Owain looked up to see Lady Brianna walk into the barracks. He jumped up and felt relief wash over him as she smiled.

"Well Owain, you have a son!" she said.

The barracks erupted in a roar of congratulations and someone prized the lid from a barrel of ale and began to dip pewter tankards into it and pass them round. One was held out towards Owain but he ignored it.

"Can I see her?" he asked.

"Of course!" answered Lady Brianna. "We've made her comfortable and she's waiting for you."

Owain sped out of the barracks and up the steps into the hall, vaulted one of the long dining tables and raced through the doorway towards the ground floor room where they had taken Brangwen for the birth. He skidded to a halt outside the door and paused for a moment to get his breath back. Then he pushed the door open and peeped inside.

The room was dark, with heavy curtains drawn and thick wall hangings to keep out the cold. Brangwen was sitting up propped up on pillows, her pale face lit by a couple of candle lanterns, the baby in her arms, his tiny head snuggled against her breast. Owain found himself holding his breath as he crossed the room to the bed and then Brangwen raised her head and saw him.

"Owain!" 

He could have sworn the room lit up a little with her smile.

"Come and meet your son" she whispered.

Owain sat on the edge of the bed and watched, fascinated as a pair of tiny blue eyes opened and looked up at him, the little rosebud mouth still firmly fastened around Brangwen's nipple.

"Are you okay?" he asked tentatively.

She smiled. "Yes.....I'm fine. I can vaguely remember being in so much pain that I wanted to die....but that's all it is now, just a memory." She looked down at the child in her arms. "He was worth it."

Owain took her hand and held it gently in his calloused palm. "So......what are you going to call him?" he asked.

Brangwen cupped her hand around the baby's head and whispered. "My mother died giving birth to me, did I tell you that?"

Owain's hand tightened on hers. "No......you never mentioned that. You must have been terrified when you found you were with child? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was just foolish worry Owain. Every woman worries. The point is that I never knew either of my parents, my father was killed in an accident soon afterwards but but I've learned since that his name was Culleyn. I think that's a good name don't you?"

"I think that's perfect" said Owain. 

The next morning Owain was woken by a banging on the door. He blinked and looked around him blearily, realising that he had fallen asleep on the thick rug at the side of the bed. He struggled to his feet trying not to make too much noise as Brangwen was still fast asleep with little Culleyn in her arms. He staggered to the door to find Gerreint outside.

"Shhhh!" muttered Owain, crossly. "You'll wake the baby!"

He slipped outside and closed the door quietly behind him.

"Well? What is it?" he asked.

"It's your friend Draco. He's at the main gate. He wants to see you." Gerreint was clearly a little unnerved but Owain could see others behind him......Draco's arrival had clearly caused something of a stir.

Just then he heard Brangwen's voice. "What is it?"

He opened the door. "It's Draco" he explained. "He's come to visit!"

It seemed as though most of the people in the fortress were crowded into the courtyard when Owain emerged with little Culleyn in his arms. Brangwen was still very tired and remained in the bedchamber.

He walked through the crowd and out of the main gates with Gerreint by his side to where Draco was waiting patiently. Gerreint evidently had an idea of what Owain was about to do but the rest of the people watched with barely concealed horror as Owain held up his newborn son and the great dragon lowered his head to sniff at him. A chubby little hand appeared from the blanket and patted him on his scaly muzzle.

"See! He likes you!" said Owain happily.

There was a deep rumble of appreciation and the tip of Draco's tongue emerged and licked the tiny arm carefully. "A very healthy looking little hatchling.......my congratulations" he said softly so as not to frighten the child.

The worst of the winter was over now and Draco would sniff at the air and pronounce that it was either too cold to fly or that today was a good day. Owain relied on his weather sense to decide on their patrols. While he and Draco were away Brangwen divided her time between caring for young Culleyn and studying the texts that Linden had given her. Linden had been pleased, but not very surprised, to learn that Brangwen could read.

"It will make your studies much easier" she explained. "With most of my previous apprentices I've had to waste so much time teaching them to read as well as everything else they need to learn."

Brangwen had already learned far more than any of Linden's other pupils had managed when she decided that she was ready to accompany her back to Glyn Ceiriog. This decision caused Owain some concern,

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked. 

"Why can't you trust her Owain? She's never done anything but try to help me!" she asked. "It can't just be the power......you trust Draco don't you? You know many other people can't understand why you can trust such a powerful creature."

"I trust him with me!" said Owain. "I'm having to trust Linden with you! That's a very different thing!" He grasped her hand. "I couldn't bear to lose you, you know that!"

They were sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard, Owain with little Culleyn on his knee who was gurgling to himself in the spring sunshine. Brangwen leant over towards him and stroked his cheek gently. "No-one will ever take me away from you Owain, you know that! Besides, you know where Glyn Ceiriog is don't you. If you're worried then you and Draco can come and rescue me!"

"What if you don't go there?" asked Owain desperately. "What if something goes wrong and you end up somewhere else?"

Brangwen sat back and looked at him patiently. "Owain! Linden and I are two of the most powerful sorcerers in the Kingdom! Trust me......I will always find my way back to you."

Owain was not entirely convinced but he knew his wife well enough to know that she intended to accompany Linden regardless of his misgivings. He was shocked, therefore, to hear her sigh and say. "If you really don't want me to do this then I'll stay.......but Owain, you know I want this....."

He took her hand. "You'd really do that for me?" he asked. "You'd give up the chance to learn this......this skill?"

"Yes.....I would, if you insist." She answered quietly.

Owain was astounded. He knew how much this meant to her and he knew that she was serious. If he insisted she would stay. But he also knew that she would resent it. He wanted to tell her not to try this, that it was too dangerous but he knew that if he did, then his decision would always be there between them, separating them, and that he could not bear. He knew that he had to trust her and let her go.

Linden arrived the next evening to take her back to Glyn Ceiriog and Owain sat on the bed with his son in his arms and watched as his wife and the strange woman with the silver hair disappeared though a patch of violet light which had appeared on one wall of the chamber at a word spoken by Brangwen.

She stepped confidently into the violet light after Linden into a bleak and empty landscape. The road they stood on was dusty and the dim grey twilight showed up a line of dead trees along the side of the road heading off into the distance.

Brangwen looked back for a last glimpse of her comfortable room, her husband and her son, only to see that the doorway had closed behind them.


	36. Chapter 36

Brangwen looked around at the cold, dead landscape. "So where are we?" she asked, trying hard not to allow her fear to show in her voice.

"We are on the mother road" answered Linden. "From here we can go anywhere we wish, we have only to find the doorway."

"And how do we do that?" asked Brangwen nervously.

"That is what you must learn" said Linden. "Now, close your eyes and follow me!"

Brangwen closed her eyes obediently and took Linden's hand. She led her a short distance down the road and then took her by the shoulders, turning her around in circles until she felt dizzy.

"Now! Open your eyes!"

Brangwen opened her eyes, seeing the bleak landscape exactly as it had been before. She looked around a little wildly but could not tell in which direction they had come.

"Now then, show me the way to your home."

"Well it must be either that direction or this one." Brangwen pointed along the road in each direction.

Linden took her shoulders and turned her slightly so that she was looking at an angle across the bleak landscape. "What about this one?"

"But the road doesn't go this......." to Brangwen's horror she saw the landscape blur and the road appeared in front of her going in the direction she was facing.

"But......what just happened?" she asked, confused.

"I told you, this is the mother road, it goes everywhere. The road leads wherever you want it to go."

"But how do you know it's the right way?"

"Ah well......that's the trick of it! Suppose I were to leave you here? How would you find your way home?"

Brangwen's eyes widened and she stared at Linden. "You wouldn't......."

Linden smiled and reached for her hand. "No! Don't be afraid......I won't leave you. But just imagine for a moment that I have. You need to find your way back, now remember what I've taught you. Calm yourself, shut your eyes and feel for the right direction......you can do this."

Brangwen took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She turned slowly in a complete circle, then once again. To her surprise she realised that Linden was right. In one direction she felt something tug at her heart. A warmth and a joy that she somehow knew represented the love of her husband and her son. She opened her eyes to see the road appearing before her.

"This way! It's this way" she said confidently.

Linden's voice came quietly from behind her. "Then take us there my dear..."

She set off down the road feeling the pull of Owain and Culleyn grow stronger as she walked until suddenly it began to weaken. She stopped and turned back. Linden stood back a few paces watching as Brangwen cast back and forth like a hunting dog on a scent searching for the spot where the feeling was strongest. 

Eventually she stopped. "Here! This is the place!"

Linden gave a little sigh of what might have been relief. "Yes! You've found it. If you were to use the chant I taught you to open a doorway, like the one you used in your chamber, you would pass straight back into your room. The bond between a mother and her child is the strongest bond that exists. Now do you understand why I didn't want you to bring the child with you?"

Brangwen turned to her in disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you used my baby as a test!"

Linden's eyes narrowed slightly. "Listen to me Brangwen. This place is very dangerous. If anything were to happen to me and you were unable to find your way home you could be trapped here forever. And here, forever could be a very, very long time!"

She smiled a little weakly. "Forgive me, but I had to be sure that you could do this."

Brangwen's anger subsided and she sighed as she realised that Linden had actually used the best method of teaching her what she needed to know.

"Dangerous.....how?" she asked.

"The road can try to distract you, divert you from your purpose. Remember the exercises I taught you to improve your concentration? I know they bored you but this is why they were so important. You must always keep your goal at the forefront of your mind in order to get to the right place. Come with me. My home is......" she paused for a moment casting around her ".......this way!"

Brangwen was able to spend just a few hours in the city of Glyn Ceiriog. She stood on the heights of the Citadel gazing down at the warm waters of the lake and the great stone wall surrounding the city. She walked with Linden around the narrow lanes that threaded their way between the houses. Then she returned by the mother road to Caer Gwytherin. Linden accompanied her but allowed her to find the way herself.

"There, you see! I knew you could do this."

They were standing in a spot on the road which looked just like any other but Brangwen knew that her child was on the other side. She had opened the door and a curtain of lilac mist hung in the air before them.

Brangwen paused for a moment and turned to look back at Linden, a sudden pang of worry in her eyes.

"You must have faith in your own abilities Brangwen" said Linden quietly.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward. Owain heard her footstep and turned to her, little Culleyn's head on his shoulder.

"Thank heavens you're back! He's getting hungry" he smiled at her. "We've both missed you....."

"Oh really Owain! I've only been gone a few hours!" she laughed.

"But so far away" he whispered, getting up from the chair. "You know I love him dearly but the one thing I can't do is feed him!"

Brangwen sat down in the chair that Owain had just vacated and held out her arms to him.

"Come here sweetheart" she said. Owain handed her the baby with a small sigh of relief and sat on the edge of the bed as she fed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owain and Brangwen's love for each other was unmistakable as Brangwen gave him, first another son, Aneirin and then a daughter, Rhiannon.

When Brangwen put her in his arms and he looked down at the beautiful little girl with pale grey eyes and curly black hair, he was lost. She reached up and grasped his finger with a chubby hand and Owain, the scarred and fearsome dragonrider, feared throughout the northlands, felt himself fall hopelessly in love all over again.

As the years passed Brangwen's glossy black hair became streaked with grey but her power was now undeniable. She and Linden had become closer than sisters as she rapidly learned everything Linden had to teach her. News of her power began to spread and people would come from all over the kingdom to ask her advice. She never asked for payment but her love of books was well known and people would bring any writing they found to her enabling her to build up quite a collection. She also sat in on all Lord Caradoc's war councils and he had become accustomed to asking her advice. When old Lord Caradoc died and his son Aidan succeeded him he simply treated Brangwen as a member of the council as though asking the advice of a woman was perfectly normal.

Owain and Brangwen lived in a time of war, they lived hard lives but they were very happy and their sons grew into strong, healthy boys and their daughter into a mirror image of her mother. During the summer months the boys ranged over the farmlands and into the woods playing at soldiers with wooden swords but always their mother kept an eye on them in the flickering firelight or in the shifting clouds. When, as frequently happened, they wandered too far Draco would set off, grumbling to himself to fetch them back again.

The new Lord Aiden had planned to settle some of his people on the grassy plains along the river but he hadn't enough soldiers to protect them, nor enough builders to build the farmsteads and barns they would need. 

"Another fortress then!" he said impatiently. 

Owain was sitting quietly in a chair at the side of the conference table.

"Your father has already considered this my Lord" he said patiently. "We simply don't have the people or the skills to build such a fortress, or even the soldiers to man it if we could build it!"

"Could we not recruit builders from the southern kingdoms?" asked Aiden.

"If you were prepared to pay enough my Lord. But even then the southerners would not wish to live here. We simply do not have enough people to settle new areas."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Owain and Draco continued their regular patrols and led Lord Aiden's army into battle many times, sweeping in over the enemy lines and scattering their horses who fled in terror from the scent of the dragon.

Their lives followed a predictable course until the day when Linden brought the news that the Durga were approaching the city of Glyn Ceiriog in vast numbers.

"My people are farmers and traders not warriors" she explained sadly. "we will never be able to fight them off and if they lay siege to the city we will starve. Our leaders will have to recommend that we evacuate the city, although it has been our home for countless generations."

"Can't we help them Owain?" asked Brangwen, torn by her friend's sorrow.

They were sitting in the great hall at one of the long tables. Linden's random appearances in the fortress of Caer Gwytherin were accepted now although it had taken a while to persuade old Lord Caradoc that his sentries were not asleep at their posts.

Owain sighed. "There's not much we can do if they come in great numbers" he said. "We've managed to hold them off all this time because we had good advance warning, thanks to Draco."

"The problem is that we have nowhere to go" explained Linden. "We cannot go north, obviously. Even if it were not for the Durga we could not survive in the mountains. The grassland stretch far to the southwest and there is no stone to build, The western peoples are nomads, living in tents following their flocks and herds and your kingdoms lie to the southeast.

Brangwen couldn't contain a tiny smile as she remembered old Lord Caradoc's plans for the riverlands which had come to nothing as there were not enough people to settle them.

"I think we could have the solution to your problem" she said quietly. "You have people who are skilled builders with no land and we have land but no people to build on it."

Linden's eyes widened as Brangwen explained what she had in mind.

"And your young Lord? He would simply gift this land to us?" she asked doubtfully.

"He will if I tell him to!" said Brangwen firmly. "It's the ideal solution after all. He needs people to settle and farm those lands, it's fertile ground, you can grow your crops and breed your sheep and carry on trading in grain and wool as you did before. Aidan will have a firm line of defence along the river, we can provide you with soldiers if you need them and they can train your people."

Owain stood up. "I'll go and see him now. We need to start making arrangements and Draco and I will head up north and see what's going on for ourselves."


	37. Chapter 37

Several weeks and a considerable amount of organisation later and Lord Aiden's army was encamped some distance south of the marshland which surrounded Glyn Ceiriog. Owain had been nominated to speak with the Council of City leaders and as Draco flew over the lake and headed for the peak of the Citadel he could see Linden, a tall staff in her hand, her long silver hair shining in the sunlight. She was surrounded by four men and two women who represented the Council.

Draco hovered for a moment, the gust of air from his great wings blowing back Linden's hair and her long robe, before settling gently on the flat slabs of stone on the top of the ancient building. Owain jumped down from his shoulders and paused for a moment, looking down to where the Council waited. 

Linden had to admit that he still cut an impressive figure despite his age. The long, dark, wavy hair that Brangwen had loved to twirl between her fingers was grey now and tied back with a black ribbon. His lean muscular figure was unchanged though, together with the brilliant blue of his eyes. He gave Draco a pat and walked down the rough stone steps to the grassed area where the council of Glyn Ceiriog waited apprehensively. He walked up to Linden, took her outstretched hand and bowed his head, dropping a kiss on her fingers.

This show of respect appeared to mollify the council and they relaxed noticeably. Linden smiled up at him and gestured around her.

"I have brought the members of our ruling council to meet with the Lord Marshal of Caer Gwitheryn. Here is Wulfric, the leader of our council..." she indicated a tall white haired man in a long dark robe who nodded at Owain ".....and his second, the Lady Ygraine."

Owain bowed politely to the Lady Ygraine, a sharp faced, woman in a deep red cloak.

"Ladies.....Gentlemen.....I assume that Linden has explained to you our suggestion? I should perhaps add that we scouted to the north on the way here and we saw the Durga army. It is vast! I've never seen so many warriors gathered together in one place and more than half were mounted on those heavy horses. Their baggage train stretched for miles. If you choose to leave with us you will need to move quickly."

"Most of our people are in agreement and have already packed up their possessions" said Wulfric.

"But not all...." put in Ygraine quickly. 

She stepped forward and stood before Owain. "It seems to me that you are doing this to help yourselves rather than us! I would say that this is an action intended to benefit your people, wouldn't you?"

Owain turned to her and looked at her with the cold stare of a warrior well used to calculating the odds in a fight.

"If I wished only to benefit my people then I would have argued against this move when my wife suggested it to your Spirit Talker" he growled. "I would have told my Lord Aiden that leaving your people here would be the best option for us."

The woman laughed. "And how do you work that out?" she asked.

"If your people remained here then the Durga would have to mount a siege" explained Owain coldly. "A siege which I have no doubt you could withstand for a long time, time enough for us to prepare for the all out war which will inevitably follow, but a siege which would eventually bring down your city through starvation and sickness. Is that what you want?"

The woman glanced around at her fellows, each of whom avoided her eyes.

"Furthermore......." Owain continued "......moving you out will enable the Durga to move in. This will mean that they will have a fortified base from which to mount attacks against us. How exactly does that benefit my people?"

The silence was broken by a deep, booming snarl from Draco. The entire council took a step back, only Linden holding her ground with the same calm expression.

"Owain has told you what we have seen!" said the dragon impatiently. "The Durga are only a few days march away. The longer you stand here arguing the closer they get! You must make a decision now! Either you leave and our army will escort you south or you begin fortifying your town and prepare for a siege."

Owain turned and smiled up at Draco, then he turned back to the council. "I do understand your feelings Lady Ygraine, it will be hard to abandon your homes but believe me, to remain here is to condemn yourselves to a slow but certain death."

"Even if we leave we will still not be safe will we?" asked Wulfric.

"No you will not. Do not make the mistake of thinking that we can take your people to safety" said Owain. "All we can offer you is somewhere marginally safer than this!"

Wulfric turned to Linden. "The Spirit Talker must decide for us. What say you?"

Linden struck the ground with her staff and the crystal set into the top began to glow with a bright, white light. "I say that we should leave. Lord Aiden's Marshal has been honest with us all along. We will not be safe, but there is no safety anywhere. If we are to die it is better to die fighting than to starve like rats in a trap!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Within hours the evacuation had begun although night had fallen before the last of the covered wagons rolled through the great wooden gates and onto the road to the south. Owain had never seen such a thing before, an entire city moving out, rich merchants in their fancy carriages alongside rickety wagons containing frightened, weeping children. It took two days for the column of wagons to reach the relative safety of Lord Aiden's army and by this time the Durga horde was only a few hours march north of the empty city.

Owain and Draco made regular scouting expeditions to keep track of the savage warriors while the army escorted the fleeing population of Glyn Ceiriog to their new home in the riverlands.

It was on one of these scouting expeditions that Owain noticed the strange new weapon. They had swooped in low over the column of soldiers when he looked down and saw one of the Durga warriors standing slightly apart from the others and holding a strange implement. It consisted of a piece of wood almost as tall as he was but bent into a curve. He pulled something that looked like a short spear from a container strapped to his back.

"It must be some new kind of weapon!" called Owain. "Get us in a little closer so I can get a better look!"

"Do you think that's a good idea?" asked Draco.

"We'll stay well out of spear range......"

As they soared overhead the warrior fitted one of the short spears against a taut string and pulled, bending the curved wood even further. Draco turned just as the warrior let go and the spear flew into the air, far faster and higher than any man could have thrown it. He felt the whistle of the air as it shot over his wing and he beat strongly, powering away from the horde and back towards the mountains.

"What was that thing!" he cried. 

There was no answer and he turned his head to see Owain slumped across his shoulders, his arm jammed under the leather strap and holding him in place. The short spear had pierced his chest and come out through the back of his shoulder.

Draco flew straight and level to a flat grassy meadow in the mountains overlooking the city, a place where they had camped many times in the past, and landed as gently as he could, lowering his body to the ground. With a groan, Owain slid to the ground and coughed producing a trickle of blood from his lips. Draco heaved himself to his feet.

"I'll fetch Brangwen" he said.

Owain put out a hand. "No my friend! It's too late for that. She is too far away."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brangwen was sitting at her spinning wheel when the pain hit. She gasped and bent over as though she had been struck.

"Mother?" Rhiannon looked up from her own spinning. "Are you all right?"

"Yes.......I'm okay" whispered Brangwen. "It's your father......he's hurt, badly. I must go to him." 

She got up from her chair and spread her hands in the air muttering a chant. Rhiannon watched as a violet mist appeared in the chamber. "Find your brothers......tell them where I've gone!" called Brangwen as she stepped through.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco had lain down beside his friend, determined now not to leave him.

"Don't weep for me my friend!" whispered Owain. "I've had a good life. I have a beautiful daughter, two fine strong sons and the love of a woman that I adore."

He turned his head weakly to look up at the great dragon who had been his companion for so many years. "Look after them Draco......."

"I will protect them with my life" answered Draco looking down at Owain as the light died in his brilliant blue eyes. "I swear it......"


	38. Chapter 38

When Brangwen stepped out into the meadow she saw Draco lying on the grass beside Owain.

"I'm too late aren't I?" she said quietly, walking towards him.

Draco lifted his great head. "You knew?"

"I was on the mother road" she said. "I could feel him but the pull was getting weaker and weaker and then......there was nothing."

"But......you could have been lost there! How did you find us?" asked the dragon.

"I searched for you my friend" she whispered, rubbing at an eye ridge. "You brought me here."

Draco laid his head back down on the ground. "This was my fault! His mother told him many years ago that a Dragon would bring him to his death.....and she was right! I brought about his death as surely as if I had killed him that day on the battlefield."

Brangwen stroked his muzzle sadly. "Now you know that's not true Draco!"

"He would never have been there if it were not for me!"

"If it were not for you he'd have been riding out with the army all these years and would probably have been killed a long time ago. Draco, I always knew that one day he wouldn't come back. So many men have been lost and so many women widowed in this war. It only saddens me that my boys have grown up to be soldiers like their father and will probably meet the same fate......"

Draco's eyes glittered as he watched her.

"Owain and I had many years of happiness together, far more than many people get. I'm only sad to think that I'll never feel his arms around me again."

Draco shifted his head a little closer. "I'm going to tell you a secret that very few humans know" he said softly. "We dragons live for a very, very long time compared to you, and others of my kind who have studied your race have told me a curious thing. That you live many lives. That sometimes, a dragon can look into the eyes of a human and recognise him, or her, as someone they knew in an earlier life. You told me once that, when you first saw Owain, you felt that you knew him. That you had known him all your life, and he said the same. Your fate is tied to his and you will meet again in another life. Of that I am certain. A love as powerful as yours will find a way to bring you together again."

He looked down the mountainside to the city in the lake and his far seeing eyes could pick out scouts from the Durga horde moving in through the gates to explore the empty city. He turned to Brangwen with a new determination in his eyes.

"I swore to Owain that I would keep you and your children safe" he said. "I will avenge him, I swear it!"

Brangwen smiled weakly. "Oh Draco, that was kind of you but you know it's not possible. Owain and I both knew that the Durga will use this city as a base to attack our lands."

"You have visited this place many times" said Draco. "Have you ever wondered why the lake is warm? It's because the waters of the lake are heated by the blood of the mountain. We dragons understand the fire mountains. It's where we lair in the winters. You humans think you are the only ones to have magic? You are mistaken. We have magic too, we sing to the mountain to keep it quiet while we live in the caverns. 

This mountain is dormant now but I have the power to awaken it. And I shall do it. I have lived for thousands of years and I know that my time will come soon. Owain was my friend and I shall make those savages pay for his death. I will give them a sign from their Gods which will send them back beyond the mountains for ever."

Brangwen and Draco remained in the meadow until the end of that day. Draco dug a deep trench at the edge of the grass under the trees and carefully laid Owain in it. Brangwen shed a few tears and then turned away as Draco began to fill in the trench.

When he had buried his friend Draco turned to Brangwen and bowed his head. "Wait here for a while Brangwen" he said. "I should like you to witness my revenge." Then he turned and flew down towards the city which was now teeming with the Durga horde. As the sunset turned the surface of the lake to pink and gold Draco circled high above in the gathering twilight and watched as the barbarians tethered their horses and manned the walls, pulling the great gates closed.

Brangwen watched as Draco flew an intricate pattern over the citadel on the hill. As the pattern became more complex she began to feel a tingling on her skin. She narrowed her eyes and realised that she could see the pattern as a trail of purple lines in the air, swirling and dancing over the city. Suddenly the earth trembled and shifted beneath her. The still, steaming waters of the lake broke into waves which rushed up onto the piers and then back again exposing the lake bottom. Pillars of steam began to rise between the houses.

The great stone walls began to shake and twist as the earth shifted beneath them. The wooden gates shattered and broke allowing the terrified horses to race out under the broken arches just before they collapsed, crushing the men who followed them.

The citadel shook worst of all. As Brangwen watched the sides of the hill on which she had stood so many times began to crumble like a child's sandcastle. Rocks, houses, chunks of masonry were sliding into the lake below as cracks began to appear in the ground through which tendrils of yellow steam emerged and through the curtain of mist Brangwen saw the gleam of fire. Then with a roar that made her clap her hands over her ears the ancient caldera sprang into life. Streamers of molten rock were flung high into the air and then plunged back down bringing a rain of liquid fire and red hot rocks.

It was only when she saw the running soldiers with flames in their clothing and hair that she turned away, unwilling to witness any more of the destruction. And so she was spared the sight of Draco falling, exhausted, spinning downwards into the fiery crater that had once been the citadel of Glyn Ceiriog.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A heavy silence hung in the air as a few sparks from the dying fire spiralled up into the night sky.

"Oh Arzosah!" I whispered. "That's so sad!"

She looked surprised. _"Why so? Owain and Brangwen were not like you. They were only mortal and all mortals must die!"_

"But what happened to her?" asked Amina.

_"Brangwen, her daughter Rhiannon and her two sons lived out the rest of their lives in the borderlands in peace as, thanks to Draco's sacrifice, the few surviving barbarians fled the city and never returned from the far north."_

She raised her great head and looked up. _"You see that little cluster of stars above the dragon? That is Owain. The stories say that he and Draco hunt the savages forever in the otherlands. But personally......."_ she looked back down at us _"...........I believe that Draco was right. That Owain and Brangwen were reborn again, perhaps many times and found each other in at least some of those lives. Their love was strong enough to last an eternity."_

Her eyes turned to me and she watched me with a curious intensity.

"Hmmm......" said Rahotep thoughtfully. "A farmer who became a soldier and befriended a dragon..... and a girl with magic who loved books and learning" he turned to Amina. "Sound like anyone we know?"

I was confused for a moment and then it dawned on me what he was getting at and I laughed.

"Oh come on! I can assure you that when I first met Bill I certainly didn't recognise him instantly as my soulmate! In fact I ran away.......didn't I Bill?"

Bill was watching me with a strange expression on his face. "Yes......you did. But then........ you came back. You've never really been able to explain why, have you?"

"Well.......I was curious I suppose" I said hesitantly.

"Curious? About a vampire?" said Bill. "You knew that I was dangerous. You knew what I wanted from you......that I needed your blood, and yet you weren't afraid of me were you, not really?"

"I knew you'd never........." the words were out before I had a chance to think about them.

"No.....I'd never have harmed you" said Bill with a smile. "But how could you possibly have known that?"

"But you've loved other women before me haven't you? What about your wife?" I asked.

"When I fell in love with Caroline you hadn't been born." He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair back from my face. 

"I've walked this earth for many hundreds of years now. Caroline was my first love" he whispered. "You will be my last."

"And now...." said Rahotep softly ".....now that you are both vampire your souls will finally be able to spend eternity together......as they were meant to do."


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short tale of Bill's exploits during World War II

Bill put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer.

"So......what else do you want to hear about?" he asked with a smile. "I can keep nothing secret from you now can I? Not now that I know you truly are my soulmate."

"What an offer!" I said, grinning up at him. "I can ask you anything I like?"

He gave a resigned little sigh. "I suppose I asked for that didn't I? Okay, anything you like."

I snuggled myself comfortably into the crook of his arm. "Don't worry! I'm not going to ask you about other women......I'd rather not know!"

"I suspect that you probably know all there is to know anyway!" said Bill ruefully. So what else is there?"

"Well........"

 _"Aha! I knew there'd be something"_ rumbled Siriothrax. _"There's always something!"_

"Russell Edgington" I said.

Bill blinked. "Russell Edgington? I don't know what happened to him Alex, I promise, although I have my suspicions. I had nothing to do with it. He just......disappeared!"

"Well, that wasn't what I meant actually. When I first met him, at that reception in New York, it was obvious that there was some kind of history between you. I was just curious." I twisted my head to look up at him. "Wait.....what do you mean you have your suspicions?"

"I suspect that Eric killed him."

Now I really was surprised. "Eric Northman? What makes you think that........and if you believe he did it then why have you never said anything all this time? He was King of Misissippi wasn't he?"

Because if I'm right then he had every right to kill him. Anyway I don't know anything for sure, I didn't put it together for a long time afterwards. I know he tried once and changed his mind because he wanted him to suffer, but I didn't know why at the time. Now I think I do."

 

"So what happened between you and Russell?" I asked.

"Well.......I first met him back in 1943 in France."

"That would be during the war?" I asked. "What were you doing in Europe during World War II?"

"I thought I'd told you this before?" he said frowning down at me. "I left England with Anastasia Lucaccio and went to France just before the occupation. We split up as she wanted to travel home to Italy and I was trapped in France after the invasion. I moved south and ended up working with the resistance, as a _maquisard,_ helping Jewish families to escape the Nazis. I shepherded them across the Pyrenees into northern Spain where they could take a train to Lisbon and gain passage to South America. It was ideal for me as, because the area was crawling with German soldiers, we slept by day and travelled by night."

Bill smiled reminiscently. "The people in my network referred to me as the Shadow. If someone insisted on a Christian name I called myself Guillame. The families under my care were told that I was faster and more reliable than any of their other operatives." 

He smiled again. "Well that was true.....they just didn't know why! Eventually my group was betrayed by a Nazi sympathiser and interned. I managed to glamour the guards and we escaped but we had to split up and I ended up in North Africa....Morocco."

"At the Purple Veil" I said, remembering the story he had told me of his time as a nightclub singer. Of his friend Heinrich and the young woman Fabienne who he spoke of with such fondness even to this day.

"I suppose it started when I was on my way back from a trip across the mountains. I was escorting a family group consisting of a father, mother and two charming little girls. All the way up to the pass I had been hearing wolves in the forest around us. This wasn't unusual, there were wolves all over Europe then and the war had made them bolder as the farmers had more important things to do than hunt them. However these seemed different to me, more organised somehow. I had a shrewd suspicion that they might be a pack of werewolves but I never quite managed to get a look at one.

I found the father to be an interesting man and had spent some time talking with him while we walked. He was a student of the Kabbala, a form of Jewish mysticism, and spoke eloquently on the subject. 

We had met in the little town of St Etienne in the foothills of the Pyrenees. The owner of a small café in the town was associated with the _Maquis_ and I would pick up my charges from his establishment after dusk. The cafe was closed when I arrived and I knocked quietly on the back door. It opened almost immediately and the owner peered out suspiciously. 

"Ah! It's you M'sieur, come in...." He gestured to me to enter as he always did. He had no idea, of course, of the significance of the invitation the first time he had done it and that now it was no longer necessary. 

"Bonsoir M'sieur Rene!" I said as I slipped into the kitchen of the small café. "I believe you have something for me?"

"Oui M'sieur.....par ici....." 

He directed me to the small storage area off the kitchen where the family was waiting in a worried silence. The father was wearing a dusty black suit and an equally battered overcoat, his wife stood slightly behind him clutching the hands of two little girls in matching red coats. Beside him on the floor stood a scuffed leather suitcase presumably containing everything they were able to bring with them. I felt a pang of sorrow for them. They were leaving behind their whole lives, their friends and family, everything they had ever known. I knew how that felt.

"This man will be your guide across the mountains" explained Rene. "Follow his instructions and you will come to no harm. He will see you safe over the border into Spain."

The man looked into my eyes as though he were trying to see into my soul. "Our Rabbi assured us that you have helped many of our people" he said. "But you must understand that it is hard for me to put my life and the lives of my wife and children into the hands of a stranger who is not even of our faith."

"I have known many men of many faiths" I said. "There are good men and bad men in all of them." I gestured towards the back door. "Come with me and I will see you safe across the mountains. I promise you that I will protect your wife and daughters as though they were my own."

"They didn't trust you?" I asked quietly.

"Why should they?" asked Bill. "They had learned from bitter experience not to trust anyone. The father told me that they had heard stories of the persecution of the Jews almost from the beginning, but they could not believe that it would happen to them. That their educated and cultured friends would turn against them and hand them over to the Nazis, but it happened."

"How can people do that?" I asked.

"If they had not they would have been taken to the camps themselves as sympathisers" said Bill. 

"It's a question of being prepared to kill another human being to save your own life then" I whispered.

"No.....It's more than that.....I've done that, during the civil war" said Bill. "It's one thing to kill a man who is trying to kill you. It's something else to send an innocent stranger to his death so that you will not take his place. None of us can tell what we would do until we are placed in that situation. Many thousands did, they handed over their friends and neighbours for many reasons. Some agreed with what the Nazis were doing, some believed the stories that they were simply being deported but others knew, they knew what was happening and they did it anyway......."

Bill's voice fell silent, lost in the past.

"But there were many who did not......who risked their own lives to help others because they knew that what was happening was wrong......"

"Those like you?" I said.

Bill laughed. "No! I wasn't putting myself much at risk. It was highly unlikely that any German Patrol could have caught me. I was far faster and stronger than any human.......and even if they had caught me it was doubtful that they could have harmed me. But the humans who worked with me..............they were the real heroes, they were the ones who risked their lives."


	40. Chapter 40

We didn't travel very far that first night. The family were frightened and tired and I had no wish to force them to do more than they could. The rest of the journey would be hard enough.

We made it as far as a charcoal burner's hut in the forest just in the foothills where I left them, meaning to head deeper into the forest to go to ground for the day. I was about a quarter of a mile from the hut when I began to feel that someone was watching me. I stopped and looked around to see a figure step out from behind a tree. I could tell he was vampire, and an old one, by the glowing pallor of his skin.

"So you're the one!" he said. 

"The one what?" I asked warily, staying well back out of reach. I knew nothing about this man other than that he was vampire and that he spoke with a germanic accent, which in itself was enough to make me avoid him.

"The one who's helping the Resistance of course! I understand that you're the only one who can outsmart the Nazi patrols. The only one who has never lost any of the people under his care. Now that made me suspicious for a start.....not that the German patrols are that efficient mind you, but they're usually good enough."

He gave his name as Rüdolph or Rüdi I had no reason to disbelieve him at the time, it might even have been his original name, but he is now known as Russell Edgington. I discovered later that Rüdolph is a form of the old Germanic Hrodwülf which means "famous wolf". If I'd known that I might have put the story together sooner!

He described himself as a "collector" and asked me a series of questions about the route I took over the mountains. I was very wary at first as I had a strong suspicion that he was working with the Nazis, in fact he mentioned the name of a colleague, Obersturmführer Otto Rahn. But it soon became obvious that he was interested, not in the route itself, but in the caves which honeycombed the mountains."

I sat up a little straighter. "Wait a minute, Otto Rahn? But I've heard of him! He was a member of the SS, was obsessed with the legends of Parsifal and the Holy Grail. He got the Nazis interested in the the legends of the Languedoc in the first place and was the focus of Nazi archaeological expeditions by Himmler's Ahnenebe division of the SS. But he died in 1939! Or at least most of the records say that he did.......there are some people who claim that he didn't die at all, that he succeeded in finding the secret of eternal life.

"Well they're right!" said Bill.

"Which ones?" I asked.

Bill looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. "Both of them!" he said.

"But......." I frowned and heard Rahotep chuckle to himself. Then it struck me.

"You mean Russell turned him?" I asked, astonished. "And the secret of eternal life......."

Bill smiled. "Well.......sort of......"

I thought about this. "So.......he was a "collector" who was asking about caves in the Pyrenees and he knew Otto Rahn......of course! He was looking for the lost treasure of the Cathars!"

Bill laughed. "I knew you'd put it together!"

"Well I haven't" said Amina. "Who were the Cathars?"

Bill grinned. "Right then, I'll pass that one over to my lovely assistant who, in her guise as an obsessive Librarian, no doubt knows all about them!"

I giggled and leaned back against him, pausing for a moment to consider how best to explain.

"The Cathars were a heretical Christian sect that was active in the South of France for about 100 years. They were Gnostics, which is to say that they believed that they could achieve knowledge of the divine through direct experience. They would be guided by _perfecti_ , who were those who had already achieved this enlightenment by means of a ritual known as the _consolamentum_ , but success would be ultimately dependent on the individual's own actions and did not require the intercession of priests. Naturally this set them directly at odds with the Catholic Church as it rendered their hierarchy of priests, bishops and cardinals effectively redundant."

"There were many sects of Gnostics in early Christianity" said Rahotep. "Particularly in Egypt. But they all eventually disappeared and were replaced by Orthodox Christianity."

"The Cathars were one of the last of the Gnostic sects" I explained. "As you might expect, the Church was keen to suppress them. Their final end can be dated from the accession of Pope Innocent III who sent a mission composed of Cistercian monks to the Languedoc to reform the Catholic Church and prevent the spread of Catharism. It appears that the locals didn't take much notice as in 1207 the papal legate, Peter of Castelnau, excommunicated Raymond, Count of Toulouse, the principal protector of the Cathars.

The Holy Inquisition was founded at about this time to stamp out the Cathar heresy and when Peter was murdered his death was used as a pretext by Innocent to call for a crusade against the Languedoc and the Cathars. It was known as the Albigensian Crusade after Albi which, along with Carcassone, was one of the principle towns of the Languedoc. Most of the northern nobility joined the "Crusade" although the military Orders like the Templars were notable for their absence. The southern nobility supported the Cathars and were known to protect the Cathar _perfecti_ and the "Crusade" rapidly became a war of conquest."

I slipped my hand into Bill's for comfort remembering the horrors I had read about in the manuscripts held in the great Library. Of how the leader of the crusade, Simon de Montfort, had ordered a noblewoman, Geralda, to be thrown down a well and buried under a hail of stones and had a hundred and forty Cathar _perfecti_ burned at the stake. How, at the town of Beziers where Catholics and Cathars had lived happily together for many years, a soldier asked the papal legate, Arnaud, how he was to tell the good Catholics from the heretics and was told "Kill them all, the Lord will recognise his own!"

I sighed. "Well the war raged on for years, both Pope Innocent and Simon de Montfort died. It was not until the next Pope Gregory IX founded the Holy Inquisition and the Dominican Friars stirred up so much resentment in their quest to root out heresy amongst the populace that matters came to a head with the murder of two of the inquisitors. The crusader armies moved against the Citadel of Montségur, the last stronghold of the Cathars."

"I saw the ruins of Montségur" said Bill. "It's on a peak in the foothills of the Pyrenees and it towers over the surrounding countryside."

"It was believed to be impregnable" I said. "And it was seen as a safe haven for Cathar refugees. The Castle's owner, the Count of Foix, was said to have hired mercenaries to strengthen the garrison. But Montségur was not just a fortress. It was also supposed to hold the mythical "Cathar Treasure" rumours of which had been circulating since the beginning of the crusade. The stories were vague but the treasure was said to be much more than mere gold and was imbued with a religious and mystical significance.

In 1243 Montségur was besieged by an army of ten thousand men. Because of the mountainous terrain and the fact that the defenders knew the area so well it proved impossible to cut them off completely and at some point two Cathar _perfecti_ were said to have slipped through the crusaders' lines and carried away part of the treasure which was never seen again. Eventually the defenders were forced to open negotiations with the besieging army.

Considering the barbarous nature of the crusade the terms were surprisingly generous. The Cathar followers and the mercenaries were to be pardoned and allowed to leave with all their possessions. The _perfecti_ had only to recant their heresy and, after penance, would be released, but if they refused to recant they would be burned. A truce was requested by the defenders ostensibly to allow them time to consider the offer, but it seems to have been to allow a ceremony of great importance to their faith to take place on the correct date. On the vernal equinox, 14th March 1244, the ritual was held. No-one knows what happened but twenty one people, some Cathar followers and even some of the mercenaries who voluntarily converted to Catharism, received the _consolamentum_ and became _perfecti._ "

I paused for effect at this point. "Think about this! These people were due to receive their freedom the following day. By taking the _consolamentum_ they were effectively condemning themselves to death by fire! The next day the crusaders seized all the _perfecti_ that they could find in the castle and took them down to the foot of the mountain. Of more than two hundred men and women not a single one recanted their faith and they were all burned alive. 

Although they had taken all the _perfecti_ they could find, three remained in hiding and the following night, 16th March, they let themselves down on ropes, climbing down the sheer rock face on the western side of the castle. According to the legend, they carried with them the remainder of the fabled "treasure" and simply disappeared from the pages of history."

"But what was it?" asked Rahotep, intrigued. "It couldn't have been gold surely? How much gold can three men carry?"

"Exactly!" I answered. "It had to have been something else. Something that had been held in Montségur until the very last moment, presumably because it was essential for the ritual which took place on the vernal equinox. Whatever it was it was powerful enough to persuade men to change their faith and voluntarily accept a terrible death on the following day.


	41. Chapter 41

_"So what was this treasure?"_ asked Siriothrax curiously, his head flat on the ground so that he could curl his neck around and watch us as Bill and I told the story.

I chuckled to myself at the thought that the Dragon's curiosity had been fired by the thought of treasure rather than the suffering of humans.

"Well that's the problem, no-one knows what it was" I said. "Or even if it ever existed at all. There have been all kinds of theories from the Holy Grail to the embalmed head of Christ. Curiously enough the one place that they might have taken it for safekeeping was to the Knights of the Temple. The Templars were noticeable for their absence from the Albigensian Crusade and when they were arrested on Friday 13th October 1307 the main accusation against them was also heresy in that they worshipped a head. They called it Baphomet, which means "The Father of Wisdom".

"It was never in the hands of the Templars" said Bill quietly.

"What?"

I turned to look at him, surprised. "How do you know that?

Bill raised an eyebrow. "Well, you'll have to listen to the rest of the story to find out!"

I buried my face in his broad chest and giggled. "It's your own fault!" I muttered, my voice slightly muffled. "You asked me to explain about the Cathars!

Bill planted a gentle kiss on the top of my head. "Okay, I know..... now where was I? Oh yes, Russell. He asked about the route I was taking but, as I said, it was obvious that he had no interest in the humans with me, only in the high mountain passes that I used. Nevertheless, I was highly suspicious of him and eventually he seemed to realise that he had more chance of getting information out of me if he told me the truth."

He looked down at me. "You explained about the founding of the Inquisition and you know that vampires have always found it....." he paused, trying to think of the appropriate word "......advantageous, to maintain a hidden presence in humanity's most powerful organisations. In the 13th Century that was undoubtedly the Catholic Church. Although the Order of the Temple, had it been allowed to continue, might well have become almost as powerful."

I stared up at him, rendered speechless for a moment by the idea that vampires had somehow managed to infiltrate the highly secretive Order of the Temple. Of course, I had known about the Catholic Church, Bill's efforts to educate me in vampire history had been pretty thorough.

"Let me guess" I said. "Russell was part of the Inquisition?"

"Well, not personally" said Bill. "But he certainly had contacts who were. Unlike the earlier Episcopal Inquisition, which was operated somewhat haphazardly by local bishops, the Papal Inquisition was thorough and systematic, keeping detailed records. Some of the few documents from the Middle Ages involving first-person speech by medieval peasants has come from Papal records. Russell had access to the records of the Inquisitors of Carcassone and that's how he learned of the escape of the four Cathars from Montsegur in March 1244. The difference is that he was actually able to speak with the Inquisitors and discovered information that wasn't in the records.

He told me that one of the Cathars taken to Carcassone had spoken of a place in the mountains, a sacred place where the _perfecti_ went to die. Although they considered themselves to be good Christians their beliefs were not the normal monotheistic belief of the Catholic Church but a belief in two opposing principles, represented by God and the Devil. Light and darkness, good and evil. The spiritual world, ruled by God which was pure and good and the terrestrial world which was evil and corrupt and ruled by an entity they referred to as “Rex Mundi”.

The majority of the Cathars were simple believers, known as _credentes,_ who were instructed by a pure elite, the _perfecti._ Once they had become “pure” they embarked on what was known as the _endura._ They would abstain from sex and would eat no meat. Some would embark on severe, suicidal fasting which would ensure the saving of their souls even as it destroyed their bodies. “Rüdi” informed me that his informant had told him that these _perfecti_ would make their way into the mountains to die.

"But he didn't know where this place was?" I asked. "How did they even know of it if the _perfecti ___went there to die?"

"Sometimes ordinary _credentes_ would accompany them. They probably needed help to get there" said Bill thoughtfully. "Apparently this is where the stories of the treasure originated. He asked me to think about what he'd said and told me that I would see him again soon. Then he left, he moved so fast that I could barely track him.....another indication of his great age. I found a safe place to spend the day and returned to my charges at dusk.

It took us several nights to cross the mountains and I spent a lot of that time warily checking our surroundings for any sign of "Rüdi". I was confident that I could detect the approach of any human in good time to hide the family in safety, but I was uneasily aware that a vampire of Rudi's age would be able to approach us unseen. I suspected that he was tracking us and noting the mountain caves where I hid the Jewish family during the day but, if so, he never showed himself again. I did, however become aware of a pack of wolves. I could hear them calling to each other as we walked, although they were usually too far away, and the calls too faint to register with my human companions. I walked through the mountains carrying one of the little girls in my arms when they were too tired to walk any further and I could hear them howling in the distance, keeping a good way from us but following nevertheless.

As I said, the father was an interesting man and I enjoyed talking with him but I hadn't realised quite how closely he had been observing me. Before dawn on the last morning we came out of the trees onto a gently sloping field which led down to a stone cottage on the edge of a Spanish mountain village. There was a single candle burning in an upstairs window which I recognised as a signal from my contact that all was well. I lifted the little girl down from my shoulders and set her down beside her mother.

"This is where I leave you" I said. "The shepherd and his family will shelter you until it is safe for you to move on 

The man spoke urgently to his wife in their own language and she smiled her thanks at me and moved off, her two little girls beside her. Her husband watched her for a moment and then turned to me

"We have spoken of my studies in the Kabbalah my friend" he said quietly. "Through this I have learned of many strange things.....I do not know what you are Guillame, but I do not believe that you are human."

I stood quite still, watching him. "And do you think it is wise to let me know this?" I asked.

He smiled slightly. "You didn't bring us all this way in order to harm me now. I know you Guillame, you would not harm me or my family. And I will never breathe a word of what I've just said to anyone. I give you my word

Bill was silent for a moment and I glanced up to see a faraway look in his eyes

I believed him" he said. "I don't know why exactly, but I did. I shook his hand and I watched him walk away. A man who knew, if not exactly what I was, then at least that I wasn't human. And I was right to trust him. He never said a word, although I sometimes wonder if his family had an idea. If perhaps those little girls grew up with the knowledge that there were other creatures in this world than those their friends knew about. If maybe they and their descendents were not quite so surprised at the Great Revelation as everyone else?" 

"Interesting thought!" I murmured. "But what happened with Russell 

Bill's arm tightened around me. "Impatience! You've never quite got over that have you?" he smiled down at me 

"I expected him to appear somewhere on the way back but he didn't. I did however, encounter the wolves again. One night I became aware that I was being tracked and I doubled back and lay in wait for them. Sure enough, as I crouched on a branch above the mountain trail, I spotted a big grey wolf padding along sniffing at the ground obviously tracking me. He stopped at the point where I had jumped up into the tree and glanced around, clearly puzzled. This was no ordinary wolf. I dropped down and landed on top of him. After a brief struggle I overpowered him and broke his neck. He gave a shudder and I found myself holding the limp corpse of a naked man. As I removed my hands from his neck I noticed a curious mark, a symbol branded into his skin, but before I could examine it more closely I heard the howls of a pack of wolves. 

One werewolf I could handle, possibly even two or three, but this sounded as though there were a lot more than that! Dropping the pack leader's body I set off back across the mountains back towards St Etienne.

It was several nights later that I slung my rifle over my shoulder and headed back towards Monsieur René's Cafe. As I walked down the narrow street I became aware that I was being observed. I assumed that it was "Rudi" but I was mistaken. In the shadows of a closed and darkened shop doorway I made out the figure of a German officer. I stopped as the Nazi stepped out into the light. He looked a typical officer of the SS, tall, blonde and blue eyed, wearing the long black leather coat with the death's head symbol on the epaulettes. Any of my colleagues would have expected me to shoot him on sight, but I lowered the stolen German Mauser rifle and smiled. 

"William Compton! Well you're the last person I expected to see here!" he said. 

"Hello Eric........"


	42. Chapter 42

"It's been a while.....San Francisco wasn't it?" asked Eric. "You've grown up Bill! I said you were promising. But I'm surprised Lorena isn't with you. She's not the type to release her progeny......and she seemed truly besotted with you."

"She released me......eventually" I said with a sigh. "But only after she'd done her best to turn me into the kind of monster she wanted me to be."

Eric chuckled. "That must have been worth seeing. Lorena was always determined, and a real monster too. I remember her maker, István. She never had a chance against him, he turned her into a copy of himself, cold, vicious and calculating."

Lorena had told me something of her maker, how he had abused her and forced her to lure men to him. I was sorry for her but I was still unable to love her as she wanted.

"So what are you doing here?" he asked. "Somehow I can't see you as the type to take advantage of war to hunt humans?"

"No!" I said patiently. "I'm helping the resistance move Jewish families over the mountains."

Eric looked honestly puzzled by this. "Why?" he asked.

I thought for a moment, trying to think of a reason that Eric would understand.

"Because I understand them" I said. "We all do, don't we? I've spent decades hiding from humans. Knowing that, given the opportunity, they would hunt me down and kill me on sight simply for being what I am. You must have spent hundreds of years doing the same thing. That's what the Nazis are doing isn't it?"

I looked him up and down, taking in the uniform. "I should ask you the same question. What are you doing here? Please don't tell me you're helping the Nazis!"

Eric burst out laughing. "Of course not! Why would I help humans? No......this is just a disguise. I'm looking for someone. Tell me, have you any knowledge of a pack of werewolves near here?"

I stiffened, "Well, yes. I killed one in the mountains not far from here only a few nights ago. He wasn't alone either, It took all my skill to evade the rest of the pack and get back here in one piece."

Eric's eyes lit up and he stepped towards me. "Was there anything unusual about him?" he asked.

I remembered the brand on the man's neck and smiled. "You're referring to the brand?" I asked.

Eric slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Yes! I knew it! What did it look like?"

"A letter Z with a horizontal line through the centre" I said. "What does it mean Eric?"

"It means that I may have found what I've been searching for since I was turned nearly a thousand years ago."

~~~~~~~~~~

"What?" I asked, sitting up. "What did the brand mean?"

"He didn't know" said Bill. "He only knew what it looked like. He tried to insist that I take him to the body that I'd left in the mountains so that he could see it for himself."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't be ridiculous Eric!" I said. "His pack mates will have buried him by now.....or eaten him, or whatever it is they do with their dead."

Eric reached forward and took my arm. "Please Bill.......take me there. This is the closest I've got in hundreds of years....."

I must admit that I was shocked. I'd never heard Eric even ask anyone for help before, much less plead. He looked positively desperate.

"Who are these werewolves Eric?" I asked gently. "Why are they so important to you?"

As I spoke I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and saw that there was another figure standing in the entrance to the alleyway behind him. He was dressed in a similar fashion to Eric, a slim young man who, although he was clearly physically younger than Eric, nevertheless exuded the same aura of great age that I had felt from "Rüdi". Eric saw my eyes move to look over his shoulder and turned. He smiled and gestured to the young man to join us.

"Godric" he said, formally. "This is William Compton. He is the progeny of an old acquaintance of mine." He turned to me. "Bill, this is Godric......he is......" I saw a wary glance pass between them "......an old friend."

I bowed formally to Godric, careful to show him the respect due to his age and he gave me a small smile of acknowledgement.

"And the wolves......?" I prompted.

Eric looked around. "Is there somewhere we could go to talk?" he asked. "Somewhere private?"

I thought for a moment. The only place I knew in the immediate area was René Artois' café and I didn't really want to introduce other vampires to people I considered my friends. 

"Please Bill?" said Eric quietly. "I'll tell you all I know if you'll help me...."

I sighed. "Very well. I'll take you to a café I know. The owner and the staff are members of the resistance. They won't be happy to see you two and I want your word that you will neither harm them or ever return there! Is that understood?"

Eric gave me a mutinous look. He was clearly unused to taking orders. However Godric stepped forward and answered for him.

"No harm will come to them, I promise you" he said calmly and with a serene confidence that Eric would obey him, which I certainly did not share. However, to my surprise Eric acquiesced immediately. He bowed his head. "Of course!" 

Bill smiled. "It wasn't until well over half a century later that I discovered why he obeyed Godric without question. We know now that Godric was his maker but at the time he only referred to him as a "friend" and, call me naive, but it simply never occurred to me to wonder what their real relationship might be."

~~~~~~~~~~

I squeezed Bill's hand. I thought I understood why he hadn't realised this. His own relationship with his maker had been so dysfunctional that the idea that a vampire could regard his maker with respect, perhaps even love, had been completely foreign to him. I felt a rush of affection for him and realised, once again, how lucky I was to have him as my maker.

Bill gave my hand an answering squeeze as he carried on with his story.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Eric and Godric kept back out of sight as I knocked on the back door of the café and the door opened slightly to reveal Yvette, one of René's waitresses. She was a tall, young woman with a mass of dark hair and a penchant for wearing distractingly short skirts. This appeared to stand her in good stead with the local German garrison who were far too occupied admiring her shapely legs to notice anything else.

Her lovely face broke into a smile when she saw me. 

"Guillaume!" she exclaimed happily. "We weren't expecting you back so soon."

I couldn't help smiling back at her. I knew that she was Rene's mistress and his wife Edith was probably aware of this as well. What I didn't know was whether he realised that I was sharing her favours as well."

~~~~~~~~~~

I pursed my lips into a slightly disapproving expression and Bill evidently noticed this. 

"You don't understand Alex" he said gently. "You've never lived through a war. She was a brave woman, a member of the resistance. If she could distract German soldiers by wearing a short skirt and flirting with them while Rene hustled British airmen and Jewish refugees out of the back door then she was happy to do it. If she had been caught she would have been shot by the Gestapo. And if she wanted some pleasure for herself after risking her life, then I was equally happy to oblige her!"

I smiled up at him. "Yes, I do appreciate that....but you have to allow me a trace of jealousy sometimes sweetie. I guess you were feeding from her as well?"

"Well.....yes" admitted Bill. "I tried not to glamour her too much but obviously I had to remove that part!"

~~~~~~~~~~

"As I said, she was pleased to see me but her attitude changed when she spotted Eric and Godric standing in the shadows behind me. She went pale and stared at me in shock. It was obvious that she thought I had betrayed them to the Nazis.

I reached out and took her hand. "No Yvette......these are friends of mine, the uniforms are just disguises I promise you, they won't harm anyone! We just need somewhere to talk in private."

She relaxed slightly. She knew me, or at least she thought she did, and she trusted me. 

I turned back to Eric and Godric. "Well don't stand out there in the open, get inside and keep quiet!"

I kept an arm protectively around Yvette, who watched warily while I directed them into the back room. Then I placed a hand behind her head and kissed her. "Make sure we're not disturbed Yvette, we'll be gone in less than an hour and I promise you'll never see them again."

She stared at me for a moment and then kissed me back. "You gave me a terrible shock for a moment there Guillaume.....I'll keep everyone away....." she gave me a sultry little smile ".....but you owe me.....remember!"

She strolled away down the corridor to the front of the café and I turned to catch Eric watching the sway of her hips appreciatively. 

"You can cut that out right now!" I snapped. "You stay away from her....understand?"

He grinned. "I promised didn't I? No harm in looking....."

I followed him into the back room where Godric was sitting on an overstuffed sofa looking perfectly relaxed. Eric sat down next to him and I took the armchair opposite him.

"So?" I asked. "What's all this about?"

Eric gave a little sigh. "I've never told anyone this before Bill, I'd be obliged if you'd keep it to yourself. It concerns my human family......."


	43. Chapter 43

Eric sat, lost in thought, for a while. Then his bright blue eyes fixed on me. "What was your father like Bill?" he asked.

I stiffened slightly. "He was a gentleman.....a farmer. He was a good man and a good father" I said warily. "Why do you ask?"

"Did you argue with him? Surely there were times when you didn't get on? He was a southern gentleman, he must have expected you to obey him? To uphold the family honour? To be a credit to him? Was there never a time when he asked you to do something for him, for the family, which went against your own plans for your life?"

I was silent, thinking of the time my father had come to me and told me that he was dying. He had arranged a marriage for me with a neighbour's daughter, Caroline, so that, with our combined lands, my mother would not need to worry when he was gone. I had planned to go to California, to see the world. I'd never even met this girl...... but I agreed, because I loved him and I respected him. I smiled to myself remembering how worried I'd been before meeting Caroline.....and how I had been smitten with her at once.

"Yes" I answered honestly. "There was. He arranged a marriage for me without my knowledge. But it turned out very well. At least until........" I stopped. Eric knew very well what I was referring to.

"Then you should understand" he said. "My father wasn't a southern gentleman. He was a King and a great leader. We Vikings are a warlike people, to lead us is no easy task! He was a man of strong will and I'd inherited not only his will but his stubbornness as well. He wanted me to marry, to help him rule so that I could learn to rule after him.....to continue his line. Me? I just wanted to have fun!"

Eric ran his hands through his blond hair and sighed. "I was young.....and foolish. I fought against him, refused to go along with his ideas. Who knows, perhaps he would have found me a wife I could have loved, just as your father did. But he never got the chance!"

I sat back, watching in astonishment as Eric's hard blue eyes glazed over with a film of unshed tears. He shook his head, clearly not wanting to show weakness in front of me. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees.

"What happened Eric?" I asked gently.

"I was in the barn" he said quietly, his mind clearly far away in the distant past. "With the goat girl, I'd just had another argument with him, told him I would learn from him tomorrow. I wasn't to know that for him, tomorrow would never come...... I heard a cry and recognised my mother's voice. I ran back to the great hall to find her lying dead on the floor, her throat torn out by one of the pack of wolves who had burst in. My father was struggling with one of them and both his bodyguards were lying dead beside the doors. As I picked up a sword he called to me and I swung round in time to run the borrowed sword through the body of a great grey wolf. I was so young Bill, hardly more than a child really. I had no knowledge of the supernatural world. Imagine my shock when I found myself kneeling over the body of a naked man."

"They were werewolves?" I asked as Eric paused for a moment.

"Yes. And each of them bore that same mark you described.....the brand....on their necks."

"An organised pack of werewolves?" This was something I had never heard of before.

Eric continued as though he hadn't heard me. "My father was fighting one of them and as I watched it dragged him to the ground and ran off with his gold coronet in its jaws. I chased after it only to see a shrouded figure outside in the snowy forest. "Don't be a hero, Viking!" it said. Then it took the crown from the jaws of the wolf and turned away. I went back to my father, calling for help, but there was no-one left and besides, he was clearly dying. He made me swear to be revenged on the leader of the wolf pack. I swore it to him, my father the King, as he lay dying in my arms. I've been searching for them ever since." 

He looked up, directly at me. "And now you've found one!" His eyes were as hard and cold as I'd ever seen them. "You have to help me Bill. They killed everyone, my father, my mother, my little baby sister.....I need to find out who they answer to!"

"Surely whoever it was will be long dead?" I asked. "These wolves cannot be the same ones?"

"No! But they clearly belong to the same pack, the brand shows that. I suspect that their leader must be some kind of supernatural creature, an immortal who uses them for his own ends, perhaps even one of us."

"A vampire? Working with a pack of werewolves? That's unheard of!"

"Something else then. I don't know." Eric shook his head. "But I must find out. I swore a sacred oath to my father, swore on his blood that I would have vengeance for my family!"

I sat back and looked at Eric. This was serious. Everything I knew about Eric Northman told me that. He was a proud man and would never have shown any kind of weakness in front of me if he wasn't desperate.

"Well, I can take you to where I killed the werewolf, but I can't guarantee that we'll find anything." It was the best I could offer and Eric seemed relieved.

"Thank you. I've been following the trail of this pack for hundreds of years but they're very elusive, even more so than normal weres."

So the next night Eric and I set off back into the mountains. He told me that Godric was following up some other lead and would not be coming with us. Unhindered by the family I had brought with me on my previous journey we made good time and soon we were standing beneath the tree where I had hidden and watched the werewolf tracking me.

"Well this is it Eric" I said, gesturing at the bare ground. "This is where he was."

Eric crouched down and examined the ground. "Yes.....I can still scent blood faintly, were blood."

I crouched beside him and looked around me. In the moonlight I could make out the scuffed marks of paw prints and some marks which could have been from bare feet heading west.

"I think.....that way?" I said, pointing.

Eric headed off in the direction that I thought the wolves had gone. I watched him for a moment and then followed. After all, I had nothing better to do at the time.....

After less than half a mile we came to a small clearing in the thick forest. Directly in front of us was a rocky cliff face with a thick layer of brambles at the base and to one side of the clearing lay the dead werewolf. Or at least......what was left of him.

The body had been partially eaten, the soft flesh of the belly torn open and the ribs exposed. The flesh had been torn from the thighs and buttocks and one leg was missing altogether. The left arm had been ripped off at the shoulder. We knelt beside the remains and I reached over and turned the ravaged head to one side.

"There.......you see Eric!"

I overcame my natural distaste with an effort and pointed to what remained of the neck and right shoulder. The torn skin bore the mark I had seen and described to Eric.

"Yes......that's it" he looked across at me with a slightly guilty expression. "You were right after all."

I sat back on my heels and glared at him. "You didn't believe me? Eric! How could I have known what the brand looked like? I didn't even know you were looking for it!"

I stood up, furious and ready to head back to town when he sprang up and put a hand on my arm. "Bill....look, I'm sorry, it's just that I've been searching for so long. I've been close several times in the past but I've seen no trace of them for two hundred years or so. I was beginning to think that the pack was extinct, that I'd lost my chance for vengeance. I had to see it for myself."

I sighed. "Well what now? This is as far as I go. I was coming back through the mountains and was followed by a werewolf from your mysterious pack. That's all I know!"

"I apologise Bill, you were right. This is the same pack."

"But not the same wolves" I replied. "Werewolves are long lived creatures, but not that long...."

"It's not the wolves I'm after but the master" exclaimed Eric giving the remains on the ground before us a frustrated kick. A piece of bone was dislodged and flew across the few feet of space and into the brambles at the base of the cliff.

"But where the wolves are, surely the master must be nearby" I said. "Isn't that the assumption you've been working......." I stopped.

Eric turned to look at me. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I picked up a rock and tossed it into the brambles. "Did you hear that?" I asked him.

"I didn't hear anything."

"Exactly!" I said. "We should have heard the rock strike the cliff, and the same for that bone you just kicked. Where did they go?"


	44. Chapter 44

We looked at each other for a moment and then both headed over to the mass of brambles. Could the werewolves lair be hidden here? Surely they wouldn't have left the body so close? I wrinkled my nose with distaste, who knew what weres would do?

I pulled back the tangle of brambles and even with my enhanced sight I almost missed the shadow that was the opening. A human would almost certainly not have seen it unless they knew it was there. That is if any human had been here in hundreds of years, which I doubted.

Eric peered over my shoulder and sniffed. "I don't smell werewolf. I doubt this is where they lair Bill. It's just a cave, these mountains must be riddled with them."

"Yes.....they are" I agreed, easing my body through the gap in the undergrowth.

"Bill! What are you doing? We should be getting back."

I turned back to him patiently. "What am I doing here Eric? Remember? I told you the other night. I help Jewish families across the mountains to Spain. I'm always on the lookout for more hiding places, although this is well off the beaten track!"

I slipped though the gap as I spoke. "You go back to town if you wish.....I'll just take a look."

I paused, peering down into the darkness.

"Well that doesn't look natural to me....."

Eric had followed me silently through the brambles and was peering over my shoulder again. For such a tall man he certainly knew how to move stealthily when he needed to.

We were looking down a steep rocky slope at the bottom of which was the top of a flight of steps which had clearly been cut into the rock by human hands. I glanced up at Eric and saw the spark of curiosity in his eyes. When I set off down the slope I could sense him following me and I smiled to myself, his carefully constructed veneer of indifference to all things human was not quite impermeable after all.

Reaching the top of the staircase I saw that they were simply shallow steps cut into the stone floor of the cavern to make it easier to get down the slope. However they were only cut on one side and the other side was a smooth slope as though something had been dragged down alongside the shallow steps. I recalled similar slopes I had seen in Eygptian tombs where the slope down into a tomb had steps cut in the centre so that the coffin could be slid down the slope and the priests and the mourners could follow. The passage itself was clearly a natural formation and as we followed it down about twenty feet or so the passage opened up into a cave similar to many others I had found in the area. I stood in the centre and looked around, puzzled.

"Well it's dry and very well hidden" said Eric, glancing around him. "Should suit you and your refugees?"

"Yes, probably....." I answered vaguely, heaading over to the far wall and running my hands over it.

Eric watched me patiently for a moment. "So what are you looking for now?" he asked. "It's a dead end."

"It certainly looks like that....."

"So.....?"

"So why would anyone go to the trouble of cutting steps down here if it's a dead end?" I asked.

Eric looked around him. "Yes.....that is odd! Perhaps there was another tunnel that's been blocked off.....a rockfall or something?" He came over to where I was examining the far wall.

"The walls all appear to be unbroken" I murmured then stopped as my fingers found a crack. In the very faint light even we could barely see the difference between the wall on either side of the vertical crack but as soon as I put my hand on the wall I could feel it. 

"This isn't stone Eric! Its metal!"

Eric reached over and placed his hand on the wall. "You're right!" he exclaimed. "You can't see it because of the lichens and crystal accretions on the wall but this is a doorway!"

He moved over, running his hands over the metal until he found two more vertical cracks marking the centre and the far side of the concealed doorway.

"I don't see any hinges or any kind of handle to open it. It must open inwards.....here, give me a hand" he called excitedly, putting his shoulder against the door, the pack of werewolves clearly forgotten for the moment.

I joined him and we gave the door a shove. I felt it move slightly but there was something blocking it from the other side.

"Come on Bill! Put your back into it!" growled Eric.

Another heave produced a loud crack and the doors swung open. We stopped on the threshold to see a thick wooden beam lying broken on the floor. It had been used to bar the doorway from the inside. We looked at each other for a second and then stepped through.

The doorway opened into a large circular chamber. It appeared to be a natural cavern. Our enhanced senses were able to penetrate the darkness and I could see a high arched ceiling from which were suspended a series of what appeared to be columns but which I realised after a moment were actually stalactites, reaching down to corresponding mounds beneath them on the floor. I knew that these were formed from minerals crystallising out of gradually dripping water, but this must have happened millenia ago as the cavern was now dry and dusty. In between the columns the walls had been excavated to form a kind of mausoleum. An intricate system of niches had been cut into the stone in rows, each two feet high by six feet long and each holding the dusty, cobwebbed remains of a shrouded body.

We turned back to look at the doorway through which we had entered and saw that on either side of the entrance were two seated figures. In the darkness they looked like the guardian statues I had seen placed in Egyptian tombs but when I took out the small candle lantern I kept in my pack and lit it the faint light showed me figures covered with a heavy dark cloth, rotten with age and torn in places. I knelt before the right hand figure and peered beneath the cloth. 

Empty eye sockets looked back at me from a shrivelled, dry face. The head was leaning back against the wall and a pair of skeletal hands lay folded peacefully on the lap. The head of the other figure hung forward under the dark cowl. The cold dry atmosphere had dried the bodies until they were barely more than skeletons covered in a layer of leathery skin.

I felt a shift in the dusty air as Eric squatted down beside me. 

"Well these guys have been here for a long time!" he said softly. He looked around. "Doesn't look as if anyone else has though....."

"They've been here since the spring of 1244" I said and Eric turned his head to look at me. 

"That's very specific......you know who they are?"

"Not precisely.....I don't know their names but I know that they were Cathars. Two of the last who fled from Montsegur."

"So why are they not interred like the rest?" he asked, looking around at the rows of niches.

I looked up trying to imagine what had happened here all those hundreds of years ago. 

"I suspect that there was no-one left to inter them" I said sadly. "This doorway was sealed from the inside. These men had fled from a massacre of their people. They knew there was nothing left to go back to but an agonising death in the fires of the Inquisition. The legends say that they had been entrusted with the greatest treasure of their people. They brought it here to secure it from the Pope's agents and sealed it in. Then they sat down to die with their people."

Even Eric looked solemn for a moment, thinking of the last hours of these men, sealed in here in the darkness. Then his head came up.

"Treasure?" he asked.

I smiled to myself. So even Eric wasn't immune to the lure of treasure. No wonder these men had gone to such extreme lengths. They were the last of their people. They had fled here into the mountains pursued by armed soldiers whose mission was to kill them because they believed in a different form of God. I thought of the Jewish family I had escorted through these very mountains only days earlier. Fleeing from armed soldiers who wanted to kill them for the very same reason.

Over seven hundred years and mankind had learned nothing.


	45. Chapter 45

Eric was watching me, his bright blue eyes alight with interest.

"So the story goes" I said carefully. "Three Cathar priests were said to have escaped from the fortress of Montsegur in March 1244 and carried away the "Treasure" but no one really knows what happened to them or even what the treasure was."

"And you think these are two of those men?" asked Eric wonderingly, looking back at the two shrivelled corpses seated calmly on either side of the entrance.

"I think so" I said. "I met a vampire in the mountains just the other night. Name of Rüdi. Do you know him?"

I turned to see Eric shaking his head slowly. "Don't think so" he said. "The name doesn't ring any bells....."

"He was old" I said. "Very old. Had contacts in the Inquisition, or so he said. He told me the story of the crusade against the Cathars and the escape of the two priests with the treasure."

Eric was looking at me with a trace of suspicion. "Now why on earth would a vampire, so much older and stronger confide such information to you Bill? You're not even a century old! Just a child...."

I laughed. "You're quite right! I was surprised myself. But he had his reasons. His information, which came directly from the Inquisition, was that the three priests had come to this area and not into the mountains around Montsegur as was generally supposed. He knew that I helped the Resistance take families through the mountains and that I was well acquainted with the many cave systems and hiding places in the area."

"Ah! I see!" said Eric. "He wanted your local knowledge! That makes more sense."

"Yes, he wants to recruit me into his search for the hidden treasure of the Cathars!" I said with a laugh.

"Well it looks as though you've been successful already!" said Eric looking around him. "Although all I see in here is bones......"

I got up and began to examine the burials more closely. 

"Why do you think he was so interested?" asked Eric curiously. "A vampire that old has usually accumulated enough money not to need to worry about it anymore. And to be searching in a war zone is a bit risky?"

"I have no idea!" I answered. "It did occur to me to wonder if he had been a Cathar in life, or at least a Gnostic of some kind. It would explain his interest in this particular story. Or perhaps there's something specific he wants?"

Eric shrugged and came over the the wall where I was running my hand over the surface, searching for any irregularities. The niches containing the bodies were cut into the side walls in regular rows but directly opposite the entrance there was a blank wall. My exploring fingers found a long vertical crack and then, several feet away, another one.

Eric's hand reached over my head and he ran his fingers between the tops of the two cracks. "This is a doorway Bill!" He whispered, excitedly. "It has to be!"

From his greater height he had seen what I could not quite make out....a further crack across the top outlining the shape of a doorway. Eric put his hands on the rock and pushed, hard. I heard a grunt of effort as he used all his considerable strength. But the rock wall remained immovable.

Eric stepped back with a hiss of frustration. "Okay! So how do we open it?" he asked. "Any ideas?"

"If it really is a doorway and you can't open it then no human would be able to open it by hand" I said thoughtfully. "So there must be some kind of mechanism, a trigger of some sort." I held up the candle lantern so that the faint light illuminated the rock wall to the right hand side of the doorway. Faint shadows appeared on the uneven surface of the rock and sure enough, about halfway up the wall, was a circular crack with a carving inside it.

"I saw something like this in the catacombs in Rome centuries ago" said Eric. But the symbol they carved was a fish.....this looks like....." he leaned forward to examine the faint engraving more closely ".....an insect of some kind? A fly?"

"A bee" I said with certainty. "It's a bee."

Eric turned to me. "It means something to you?" he asked.

I nodded. "Rüdi said that, even under torture by the Inquisition, the only information his acquaintance could get was that the place was marked with a sign of a bee." I placed my hand on the carving and pushed gently. At first nothing happened but as I increased the pressure I felt the stone move slightly, there was a grating noise as the ancient mechanism came to life and the stone slid inwards. As it did so we heard a louder grating noise and dust began to fall from the ceiling.

Eric and I both tensed, ready to run if the cavern was about to collapse but as we watched the slab of stone began to move. It was jerky and uneven and obviously had not operated for many centuries but it swung gradually inwards until it ground to a halt about halfway open as the ancient mechanism finally failed.

I held up the lantern and the dim light showed us a narrow passage beyond, opening into another, smaller cave. We squeezed through the gap and found ourselves in a low ceilinged cave, much smaller than the first one. Around the walls were stacked wooden boxes of varying sizes and directly opposite the entrance was a carved stone chest.

Eric stepped to the side and lifted the lid of one of the boxes. The faint light showed the dull gleam of gold. "Jackpot!" he muttered. "Look Bill......"

The chest looked like something you might imagine finding in a pirate's lair. It was full of gold, coins, chains, rings, various items of jewellery set with pearls and precious stones. The chests looked to be of different ages and it seemed as though the contents had been collected over a long period.

"It's like some kind of Cathar Bank!" I said. "A safe deposit vault for their savings! But what's in the stone chest?"

We walked over and looked down at the chest. The lid was covered with carving and at the centre was a face crowned with a garland of leaves. I ran my fingers over the carving. "The owner perhaps?" I said thoughtfully.

Eric simply picked up the lid and heaved it off the chest, putting it down on the ground propped up against the rear wall. Inside the stone chest were three ragged canvas bags. I reached in and lifted them out carefully, feeling the ancient cloth tearing under my fingers. Eric squatted beside me watching as I opened the largest bag and eased out the object inside. It was wrapped in silk and even Eric gasped when the thin material slipped off to reveal a human skull. Thin scraps of leathery skin still clung to the bone and wisps of dark hair trailed from under the golden crown that encircled its brow.

"Well I'll be........" Eric voice trailed off as he gazed at the thing in my hands.

The crown consisted of a gold band made up of eight square pieces of beaten gold, each encrusted with coloured gemstones and edged with a rim of tiny pearls. Across the top ran two further bands of gold, one running up from the centre of the forehead bearing a small jewelled cross and the other from side to side making a kind of golden cap also edged with tiny pearls.

The rotten canvas of the second bag split in my hands and a glittering torrent of gold poured out over my hands onto the stone floor of the cave. There were gold coins engraved with the head of a king and what looked like several hundred tiny golden bees.

I twitched in Bill's arms. "Bees again?" I asked. "Did you know what they meant?"

"Not at the time!" said Bill with a smile. "I wasn't a Medieval scholar remember! I was a farmer and a soldier. Sure, I'd read a lot while I was with Lorena but I was no expert. However, I know now that they probably came from the burial of a King of the Franks. Childeric I was buried with up to 300 gold bees which were probably attached to a cloak of some kind. I believe Napoleon had his coronation robes embroidered with bees as a symbol of the first kings of France?"

"That's right" I looked up at him. "Do you think that's where the crown came from as well?"

"Who knows?" said Bill. "We had no idea what we were looking at. Rüdi had mentioned that the Templars, who had been the only allies of the Cathars, worshipped an embalmed head but whether this was the head of some Frankish or Visigoth King bearing his own crown, or something much older we had no way of knowing.


	46. Chapter 46

I reached into the chest and pulled out the third canvas bag. Inside was a package wrapped in some kind of silk shawl, large and square. The wrapping had rotted away and I brushed the dust from the cover of a book bound in dark leather.

"Very exciting!" said Eric, glancing at it briefly then turning back to the boxes that lined the walls. He opened a couple at random and I caught the dull gleam of more gold as he pulled out a couple of handfuls of the contents and stuffed them into his pockets.

"I should be able to move these on....I've got some contacts" he said. "But that crown is going to be hard to shift! I guess it must have been the treasure of the stories".

"No I don't think so" I said thoughtfully. "If it were the crown then why didn't they just take that? Why bring the head as well? Remember that these men escaped from the citadel at night, climbing down the wall and slipping, unobserved, through a besieging army. They would hardly have taken anything that they didn't need would they? It would just be an unnecessary burden."

I stared into the empty eye sockets of the skull resting on top of the stone chest. "No. I think that this is their treasure. This relic was what they went to such lengths to secure. Whoever this man was, a king, a priest or a prophet, he was very important to them."

I turned to look at him. "So what do you think we should do with it?"

Eric laughed. "You're asking me? Why would I know......or care come to that? We found it. I'm planning to help myself to some of the easily portable stuff, as to the rest......you decide."

"So what did you do?" I asked.

"Well Eric was obviously not in the least interested......." answered Bill "...... and so I had no-one to guide my decision. I was alone and I made the decision alone. From what Rüdi had told me I knew that the gold coins and the jewels had probably been collected over the years from the Cathar faithful, both from the poor and from their supporters amongst the nobility. It was originally intended to help their community, possibly to buy arms or even mercenaries but they were overwhelmed by the final attack on Montsegur, their supposedly impregnable fortress. The Cathars themselves no longer existed but people still lived in the towns and villages that they had founded, probably their descendants. I knew that René and many of his fellow Resistance fighters came from families who had lived in the area for centuries. If this "treasure" belonged to anyone, then it was them.

I wanted Rüdi out of the mountains. I didn't like the idea of him and his Nazi colleagues continuing to search the area, it was far too dangerous to our people. So I took him to the cave and asked him to take what he wanted....the rest I passed on to René and his friends to sell on the black market."

I felt Bill's arms tighten around me instinctively as I began to wriggle.

"Yes! Yes! I know......you disapprove!" he said.

"Bill! You sold priceless antiquities on the black market! Of course I disapprove!" I squeaked indignantly.

"Now listen Alex. What else was I to do? It was wartime remember? And even if it weren't for that I could hardly have walked into a museum with them now could I? Besides, I believe that the original owners would have approved of their money being used to help others who were fleeing from religious oppression just as they were themselves."

I relaxed and thought about this. Damn it! He was probably right..... I sighed. "Yes. They probably would at that."

Then something else occurred to me. "What about the book? What was it......and what happened to it?"

"Ah yes.....the book! Trust you to remember that!" said Bill. "Well.....this is another reason why I believe you to be my soulmate. You see, I couldn't bring myself to hand it over to René to be sold. It was handwritten in Latin and I could read it with difficulty. It purported to be a version of the life of Christ written by his disciple Thomas. At the time it was unheard of but then, of course, in 1945 a further copy was discovered at Nag Hammadi in Egypt."

"The Gospel of Thomas!" I whispered. "Well, the Cathars were a Gnostic sect so it makes sense that they might have a copy.....wait a minute. We have a copy of the Gospel of Thomas in the Library. You didn't........"

Bill was grinning down at me. "I kept it throughout the war. When I escaped to Morocco I hid it in my house and then brought it back to London after the war and handed it over to the Authority. I knew they had a Library but I had no idea how extensive it was......or that I would end up married to the Librarian!"

Rahotep burst out laughing. "Well congratulations Bill.....you gave up the gold and the jewels and kept the book! We'll make a Librarian of you yet!"

Bill smiled sheepishly. "Well actually I did keep some of the gold and a few of the jewels too. They were invaluable during the war when currency was either unavailable or, in some cases, worthless."

We sat around the flickering remains of the fire each lost in our own thoughts for a few moments.

"So who do you think the head belonged to?" I asked at last. 

Bill sighed. "I have absolutely no idea. I've read many theories about the Cathars and the Templars since and many stories of embalmed heads. Some say they were in possession of the head of King Dagobert of the Franks, some say John the Baptist, some even suggest that they possessed the embalmed head of Jesus.......I guess no one will ever know. I figured that, since they had given their lives to protect it, they deserved to keep it and so I wrapped it in the remains of the silk shroud that had covered the Gospel and put it back in the chest. When I went back many years after the war I discovered that there had been a landslide which had covered the entrance to the cave."

"But what happened to Eric?" asked Amina curiously. "Did he find the rest of the pack of werewolves he was looking for?"

"Well, about a week later I called back in to the Café and found René behind the bar polishing glasses. 

"Ah Guillaume! I was wondering when we'd see you again." he said, putting down a glass and reaching under the bar. I leaned on the bar as he pulled out an envelope with my name on it. 

"Edith found this on the doormat yesterday morning. Must have been pushed under the door during the night."

The envelope gave me no clues. It simply said "Guillaume" in a handwriting that I didn't recognise. I opened it and found a short note which said simply. 

"Meet me in the square at midnight.....Eric."

I glanced up at the clock to see that there was time for me to get to the small village square before midnight. René was watching me as he picked up another glass. "Be careful Guillaume! You never know who you can trust these days."

I smiled at him. "I'm always careful René! You know that...."

Eric was waiting in the shadows in the square as I arrived. I saw Godric leaning against a wall on the far side of the square watching us but he made no move to join us as I walked over to Eric.

"We found them!" he said. "The remains of the pack. We caught one of the were-bitches just outside town, she'd killed a soldier and we arrived just as she was about to eat him."

"Did she tell you anything?" I asked.

"Eventually" said Eric with a nasty grin. "She told us that their leader was 'one of us'."

"A vampire!" I gasped. "Do you think she was telling the truth?"

Eric considered for a moment. "I think so" he said seriously. "She seemed pleased. She was taunting us.....that he was one of our own kind and we didn't know..... and also that he had already left the area." He smiled at me. "Well, I felt you should know, if you're going to stay here you need to keep out of their way Bill." He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure we'll meet again some day....." and he turned away.

Suddenly I realised that I had the information that Eric needed. That I might have met this vampire. 

"Eric!"

He turned back and gave me a sharp look. "You've thought of something?"

"I know who this leader is!" I said. "I've met him. It's the vampire I told you about. The one I met in the mountains!"

"Rüdi?" he asked. "Why would you think that?"

"Well firstly, he was in the mountains in the same area as the pack of werewolves. But more importantly, of all the items we found in that cavern there was only one he was interested in. The Visigoth crown."

Eric's eyes lit up. "The crown!" he whispered.

"He said he was a collector" I said thoughtfully. "That must have been what he was looking for all along. But wait, Eric.....this doesn't really prove anything. It's suspicious certainly but there's no way to prove this is the same man whose wolves killed your family and took your father's crown."

"You said he was old?" said Eric thoughtfully. "Older than me?"

"Yes.....perhaps even older than your friend Godric!" I said.

Eric sighed. "So it seems I am too late." he said.

"He told me he was leaving Europe" I said. "Abandoning the Old World for the New."

"Then I shall continue my search there" he said. He looked at me strangely for a moment. 

"Thank you Bill. I'm grateful for the information. You've been very helpful."

He gave me a nod of appreciation and I got the distinct impression that he hadn't expected me to help him. Or perhaps......that he had expected me to have kept the information to myself. I realised, too late, that this knowledge might have given me power over him. I shrugged, perhaps this was what immortals did. Each try to gain an advantage over the other. If so then I was ill suited to it. I smiled to myself. Lorena had indeed chosen poorly when she turned me.

"So.....you'll be staying?" he asked.

"Yes" I gave a resigned sigh. "Although I suspect that we might have a bit more trouble now come to think of it."

"Why?" asked Eric. "You confirmed what the werewolf told us......that Rüdi was leaving the country."

"Yes, but his friends aren't" I said grimly. "Unlike you he really was working with the Nazis! A man named Obersturmführer Otto Rahn. He's equally obsessed with the treasure of the Cathars and if Rüdi disappears he's going to be hunting for it even harder.

"Rahn!" said Eric thoughtfully. "He's a vampire?"

"Yes."

"I think I've met him.....he's a little creep. Dangerous too, he thinks he's invincible, he could give us away." Eric gave me a little smile. "You didn't have to give me this information Bill. I know many vampires who would have held onto it and tried to use it against me.....but that's not your style is it?"

He grinned. "You must have been a terrible disappointment to Lorena!"

He turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder. "Don't worry about Rahn. I'll get rid of him for you. I don't like owing people favours."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bill fell silent, his mind clearly far in the past. I pressed his hand gently. "So?" I whispered. "What happened? When you and Eric met Russell again?"

"Well......nothing" he said. "A bit of an anticlimax I know, I had my suspicions and I'm sure Eric did too, but we never spoke of it again. After all, Russell Edgington was a King, appointed by the Authority to rule the Kingdom of Mississippi. We had no proof of anything, and we never would have.....or so I thought."

"So what makes you think that Eric killed him?" 

"There was just one thing that made me suspect that Eric had found sufficient proof to convince him at least. When Russell disappeared the Authority asked his staff for an inventory of his extensive collection. They found that there was something missing. Only one item, but it convinced me that Eric was involved."

"So what was missing?" I asked.

"A golden coronet" said Bill. "A thousand years old, it was described by Russell's staff as a Viking Crown......."

********** The End *************


End file.
